


The Bus

by Gunney



Category: Simon and Simon (TV), Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9540551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gunney/pseuds/Gunney
Summary: This is a crossover story. A strike in the city's juvenile justice department leads to Starsky and Hutch's involvement in a prisoner transport. As events unfold they have a first time encounter with another set of brothers.





	1. The Bus

Starsky sat at the back of the bus, his eyes losing focus on a string of cards that baffled him. How could anyone’s luck be so rotten? He glared around him at the crowd of gamblers slavering over the pile of potato chips in the middle of the table. He’d folded three times in a row, and another fold would mean losing more chips than he could afford. But these guys were keen. He hadn’t bluffed them once and gotten away with it. 

He was pretty sure Wallace was cheating. He knew for a fact that Samuel was cheating and the rest were just enjoying the show. He’d been the mark all along. And he called himself an undercover police officer!

“Come on, Sergeant Starsky.” One of the guys cooed, mocking his accent. “We know what you’re holding. Just give it up.”

“You was destined to lose from the start, man.” Another chuckled, and the cop had to admit that it was likely true. The crowd he was with had little else to do with their time but play cards. Some of them were smart enough, or talented enough to have developed the skills to count cards or make use of a little sleight of hand. Calling them on it wouldn't do him any good. He was surrounded.

The moment his handful of cards went face down on the table the crowd of delinquent boys around him burst into congratulatory cheers. Exclamations of “hell yeah” and “you lose, cop!” passed around the crowd of players and onlookers. 

The sound easily reached the driver at the front of the bus. He glanced in the wide rear-view mirror and watched the curly headed detective perform the walk of shame, leaving the crowd of juvenile delinquents turned card sharks to their own devices. And all the snacks he’d brought with him for the bus ride. 

“I can’t believe you lost.” Hutch said, shaking his head. 

“Those kids are criminals!” Starsky protested, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Jacobs had a dozen cards up his sleeves, and I know Wilson was counting.” 

Hutch gave him a look, then turned back to the mostly empty highway lit only by the headlights of the vehicles around them and the half-moon overhead. 

“Is it my turn to drive yet?” 

Hutch gave him a look then said, “Tired of losing, are ya?” 

“They took all my snacks.” Starsky said with a shrug. 

“You know that was a nice thing you did, playing with those guys. It’s not necessarily part of this job to entertain them.” 

Starsky shrugged. “They’re alright. Figure if they can meet a friendly cop not out for their hides just because they got a rap sheet. Might improve future relations” 

Hutch was quiet for a moment, watching the road before he said, “They really liked your badge.” 

Starsky blinked, and turned a confused look toward his partner, trying to remember when, if at all, he had shown the crowd of twenty juvenile delinquents his badge. “What are you talkin’ about?” 

“When Immerson stole your badge, it made the rounds up here. They really liked it.” 

Starsky’s hands went to his back pockets and he straightened, spinning in a circle. “He stole my badge!” 

“Your wallet, too.” Hutch said, smirking. 

“He…! Those brats!” 

Hutch chuckled, reaching a hand behind him and stopping his partner from storming back down the the bus aisle to bust heads. “I got your badge and your wallet here. Completely intact. Kid behind me snagged it, demanded the kids turn your money back over.” 

Starsky glanced down at the kid zonked out in the seat behind Hutch. “What makes him such a do-gooder?” 

“He’s a level 8. He's on his way out.” 

“I thought there were 10 levels.” Starsky said, sending a quiet glare toward the rear of the bus before he settled in the front most seat opposite Hutch. 

“There are, now. He was grandfathered in. He’s been in the system since he was 14.” Hutch said. Starsky was quiet for a moment and Hutch knew what he was thinking. Any kid in the system from so young an age had to have done something truly reprehensible. Murder, rape, something along those lines. That the kid was being grandfathered out of the system, probably because he was turning 18 and would be too old to hold in juvie anymore, meant two things.

First, he’d spent four of his crucial formative years in survival mode. Second, it was going to be one hard, cold-turkey transition between juvie and the outs. 

“You know this job has been just a little depressing.” Starsky said finally, letting his voice drop under the growl of the bus engine. 

“Yeah.” Hutch said, squinting against the light of a passing semi. “You get used to seeing them as adults, you don’t like to think that criminals come in smaller packages.” 

“I think I understand the strike a little better.” Starsky said eyeballing the tattered, rundown bus they were driving. Most of the noise on the bus was from the rattle of metal screens that were barely attached to the bus windows. None of those windows opened and the three, tiny revolving fans meant to provide air conditioning were a joke. Some of the seats were loose. None of the kids in the bus were secured, either for their safety or for that of the officers with them. 

The bus might have been built in the 50s, but it was the best, and biggest vehicle the juvenile justice department for Bay City had. The lack of money provided for the small department of officers had been a problem to begin with, and steadily grew worse until the policy of “Just pretend it’s not a problem” became too much to bear. 

Hutch shrugged. “No money usually means no way of growing. Ernsberger and his group have done more with nothing in the past few years than any other department could do.” 

The game in the back of the bus was breaking up. Each of the guys were heading to their seats to doze for the rest of the long ride, and only two remained at the small round table in the back, eating the last of their chips. Starsky watched the two, Kyle and Chatham, no more than sixteen, trading stories and swapping lies like anyone else who’d been in the prison system for a year. Like it was normal. 

He didn’t know which was worse. That the world was such that kids so young had to be institutionalized, or that the same world didn’t care enough to fund the pit they threw their young mistakes into. The prison system in general was under a great big, decade long reform but the kids were getting the short end of the stick all around. 

The strike, or prison flu, had robbed three juvie facilities in Bay City of most of its staff. They wanted better pay for their people, and repair money for facilities that were falling apart. Even more, they had been on the receiving end of a constant shipment of juveniles from other smaller towns that couldn’t handle their own caseloads. They sent their first timers to the big city to “scare” crime out of them. Sometimes it worked. Other times the scared kids ended up stuck in the system because the “scare” snapped their young psyches in half and they turned out to be better criminals than the city kids. 

Bay City Juvenile Department had finally said enough was enough. To take up the slack while the ungreased wheels of justice moved slowly, other cops in the city had been recruited to spend a day ‘volunteering’ once every week. Starsky and Hutch had offered to man a prisoner transport of non-native juveniles back to their home state. 

It didn’t hurt at all that the kids were all to be delivered to the same little town in Arizona, and they had been offered vacation for two days following the transport. The Grand Canyon was only a few hours away, and Las Vegas only a few hours away from that. 

The late night nature of the run hadn’t been part of the plan but it was working out. Most of the guys were tired, ready to sleep and they were only four hours into an 8 hour drive. 

The drive had seemed interminable to Starsky until one of the kids produced a pack of cards, Starsky produced his bag of goodies and the poker game started. That had triggered about two hours of a slow bleed of chips, candy and jerky. The kids got their salt and sweet fix, and Starsky ended up hungry but a lot less bored. 

As the last of the kids drifted off to sleep Hutch’s partner started pestering him about driving until he quietly caved. They switched places without stopping the bus and Hutch stretched out in one of the seats, pulled a cowboy hat down over his eyes and tried to doze. 

He might have managed two hours of sleep, or maybe three, before the shit hit the fan. 

He remembered the bus rocking, the tires squealing on pavement. He’d opened his eyes to see the face of his partner in the glow from the dash, his arms rigid around the steering wheel. The bus was starting to tilt and one of the tires was flapping, like it’d gone flat and shredded. Then another tire popped and the bus, no longer sufficiently supported on the right side, tilted toward the pavement. 

They hit the road and the window he was leaning against shattered under his back, as he watched Starsky disappear, thrown from the driver’s seat. The lights of the bus illuminated the concrete wall and metal railing of the side of a bridge, then were extinguished as the front of the bus smashed through. 

Hutch screamed, “Hang on!” over and over, watching the edge of the bridge disappear under him, knowing that gravity and friction were supposed to be slowing them down, but momentum could very well carry them over the edge. Metal and glass ground on asphalt and he’d managed to get his feet under him, standing on the braces of the window, before the vehicle tilted downward. 

He saw the jumble of rock and brush below. Down an incline that offered too much of the first, not enough of the second. Hutch slipped from the cubicle like seat, let himself fall forward and wrapped himself around his partner. The bus left the bridge, hit the incline and rolled.


	2. The Canyon

The bus came to a stop right side up. As if it’d been driven into the canyon by one of the dirt paths that jutted in and out of the narrow cleft. It leaned to the right where two of the tires were missing, but wasn’t going to go any further. The whole chassi of the bus had been twisted slightly in the fall, like a giant had taken each end and treated the bus like a rectangular rubik's cube. There were a few extra dents in the roof and along both sides.

The rolling had stopped, the screeching had ended, the bits of glass covering everything finally settled. Five of the people in the bus were dead. Two more would die shortly. The engine was still running, the “stop” and “slow” lights were blinking. The whole bus had been lit up by the flying body of one of the drivers when he was slammed back into the controls. 

The bus should have been easy to spot, but no one saw it. No one had seen it go off the road, and no one would miss it for another three hours. 

They hadn’t been seen by any of the people that occupied the businesses and houses along the highway because of the late hour. According to everyone but the living bodies on the bus, the vehicle had disappeared completely.

When he woke up, curled into a ball in the stairwell, Hutch didn’t know that. He didn’t know how long they would be stuck on that bus, how many of the kids were dead or alive, how his partner had fared. All he knew was darkness and cold, purposeless pain. While he tried to figure out where it began and ended he heard a voice talking to air. 

“Mayday, mayday... Anybody out there, there’s a school bus in a canyon under a bridge. We need help and medics and stuff.” The voice said, then paused and a hiss of static crackled through a broken speaker. 

There was blood on Hutch’s forehead on the right side. It was coming from a series of cuts that were still open, still wet. The blood was threatening to blind him and Hutch wiped it free with his right hand. He’d told the left hand to help but it hadn’t responded. 

“Mayday, Mayday. Repeat, a school bus off the road, in a canyon under Route 66. Twenty kids and one adult in need of immediate medical assistance. Please come in.” 

The boys. He needed to be up, on his feet, looking after the twenty boys that needed assistance. Hutch tried to pull himself up, his right hand grasping one of the struts of the door. He got his butt off the stoop then sat back down, ready to pass out. He sucked air into his lungs and searched the darkness for his left arm. It was still attached thankfully but his elbow had an extra joint, his shoulder was beginning to talk to him and it wasn’t happy. 

The voice interrupted the static to tell the world about their problem and Hutch decided he had to keep trying. This time he made it to his feet and pressed his forehead to the cool metal of the wall by the door. He breathed, deep, long, feeling a slight twinge in his left side, and the rush of oxygenated blood. 

“Sound off!” He barked, once he could. 

He heard coughing, clothing rustling, a few groans then a male voice saying, “Yates, Ho!” 

“Faukner, Ho!” 

There was silence for a minute, and Hutch turned using the divider that separated the stairs from the first bus seat, to get up the steps. The voice using the radio had belonged to Abrams, the kid that had retrieved Starsky’s wallet and demanded that all the money be returned. The kid quietly said, “Abrams, Ho!” purely for Hutch’s benefit then went back to his efforts. 

“Wilson, Ho!” A voice called, but Hutch was sure he’d heard the voice once before. He heard a another weak cough and found something else to cling to, getting into the aisle. He found the first body in the second seat. 

Eyes wide open, neck broken, the kid had his fingers dug into the plastic of the seat. He’d been hanging on and it’d done nothing for him. That was Barlow, Hutch was pretty sure.

“Chatham, Ho!” A voice called then cried out in pain. That had come from the back of the bus and Hutch kept moving, checking each seat. 

“I’ve got Immerson and Kyle. They’re both out. And I’m Jacobs, Ho!”

Hutch had found three more dead before he encountered the living. The conscious ones had all spoken for themselves. Seven were awake and moving, six were out but alive and breathing. Seven were dead. 

Hutch walked the length of the bus cataloging injuries. His mind preoccupied by the blood, the battered and swollen bodies, the corpses. 

Hutch got two of the kids on their feet. The one, Faukner, had a growing bruise at his temple and a finger out of place, but he seemed whole. Hutch assigned him one side of the bus. “I need to know how everybody is. Breaks, cuts, dislocations, anything at all. I need to know how bad, and I need everybody sitting up in the seats if possible. Same goes for you, Jacobs. I need to know everything so that we can fix what we can, and...try to stall what we can’t, ok?” 

Jacobs seemed dizzy but more confident than Faukner and he nodded, supporting his head with the palm of one hand. 

“Hey ain’t this supposed to be your job, cop?” Faukner wanted to know. 

“Does it look like I have enough hands to do this by myself?” Hutch demanded, once more wiping blood from his forehead before it could land in his eye. 

Hutch left the two of them to it and started back toward the front of the bus. His left arm had begun to feel tight, like a blood pressure cuff expanding beyond the normal limit. It made each step feel like a mistake and he knew, so much as brushing against one of the seats would kill. 

By the time he got back to Abrams his jaw was creaking, his teeth clenched hard together. 

“Get that thing working?” He asked Abrams. 

The kid seemed just as dazed as the rest of them, staring at the switches and dials and gradually throwing a few of the lights on inside the bus. A few minutes later the other lights flashing off the canyon walls went dead. 

“I don’t know if its not sending, or if there just isn’t anybody to hear it.” The kid drawled. He had to have started out in Texas with how deep the twang was. He winced and put a hand to the back of his head then froze, staring at Hutch’s arm. “I’ll bet that arm ain’t supposed to be that way.” 

“Listen..I gotta find my partner. You keep an eye on these guys, keep ‘em movin’. See if you can’t get more of them on their feet, ok?” Hutch said, waiting for Abrams to refocus his attention on his fellow inmates. He didn’t leave the bus until Abrams had nodded. 

Hutch grabbed a flashlight that was secured to the underside of the dash and stepped out into the canyon. Once he was out of the glow of the interior lights he leaned against the side wall, put the flashlight in his mouth and gingerly worked the sleeve of his shirt up his arm. 

From mid-forearm to his wrist there was deep bruise darkening. He could move the fingers on his hand, just barely but his pinky and his wrist wouldn’t budge. It was the ulna that had dislocated, creating the extra bump and another bruise that was blending into the first. His shoulder was probably also bruised, but he could move it.

He stepped closer to one of the side mirrors, now warped at a tight angle, hooked his wrist into the metal brace and forced his elbow to bend. He was gasping around the flashlight in his mouth, his eyes already watering before he even got to the part where he would have to force the bone back into place, but he had to know what he was doing. 

Watching the tendons, bones and muscles move through his skin might have been fascinating if it hadn’t also been blindingly painful. He watched the unnatural movement of the bone then put the heel of his hand against the extra bump, pulled until there was enough tension to create a space and shoved as hard as he could. 

It was like trying to ride a horse upside down, while running through quicksand and singing underwater. The move required going against every natural instinct the body had built in. Hutch screamed until the bone snapped back, then he sank to the ground and tried not to puke on himself. 

Abrams and Jacobs showed up, both storming down the bus steps and crowding around him. 

“You get attacked?” Abram asked, interrupted immediately by Jacobs.

“Hey, where’s the other guy?” 

“Get back on the bus and stay there. Both of ya.” Hutch said, forcing the words through abused vocal chords. Jacobs gave him a look and a shrug that dismissed the order and made it look like he was choosing to get back on the bus by his own will. Abrams followed Jacobs, seeming actually concerned about the man still on his knees in the rough, dry river bed. Hutch managed to get his eyes open, and let the flashlight beam flicker over the ground around him. 

He was looking for a dark blue blazer, blue sneakers, jeans, dark brown hair. He got a good look at the ground in a twenty foot radius and saw nothing but rock and brush. He forced himself to his feet feeling the pound of blood rushing through his damaged arm. His fingers had come alive with pains of their own and he realized that the dislocation had been cutting off blood flow.

The change in blood pressure made him dizzy and he stuck to the side of the bus, took in a deep breath and shouted, “Starsky!” 

Faintly he heard a voice. 

The voice was singing. 

“Happy Birthday to you…” 

Hutch spun in a slow circle, keeping the flashlight trained at the ground. He stepped away from the bus and bent low enough to look under it, finding more rocks, and a puddle of oil. 

“Happy Birthday to you…” 

Hutch stumbled away from the bus, lifting the beam higher, searching farther away. He’d gotten about fifteen feet away when he saw the empty sleeve of a blue jacket slung over a rock the size of a tractor tire. The rock was about fifteen feet off the canyon floor at the top of a small cascade of stone. 

“Happy birthday dear best pal and partner ever except for his taste in cars…” The voice sang, losing air rapidly. 

Hutch scrambled toward the pile, watching the sleeve of the jacket slowly disappear over the side of the rock, inching out of sight before it was once again flung into the open. “Happy birthday…” The voice finished and Hutch rounded the final boulder, his flashlight catching a glint of light blue eyes. 

Starsky stared and finished singing, “To you!” 

Hutch shifted the light, making a list of the scratches, cuts, blood, bruises. Starsky had probably been flung from the bus and made his own way down the side of the canyon sans the protection of steel. He’d landed on his back, feet elevated slightly on the curve of a mostly flat-topped boulder. There was blood under his head, soaked into the ground and the collar of his shirt. 

“It’s not my birthday.” Hutch said. 

“It will be. In two days.” Starsky responded. “And guess what?” 

“What?” 

“You survived to see it!” Starsky said joyfully. 

Starsky wasn’t moving. He wasn’t trying to get up, and the lack of motion disturbed him. Hutch put the beam of the flashlight back on Starsky’s legs and said, “Yeah? Where’s my present?” 

“In Las Vegas. Her name’s Ginger. I’d give you her measurements but I didn’t want to make the natives restless.” Starsky said. “What are you lookin’ at?” 

Hutch reached out a hand and closed his fist around one of Starsk’s ankles. His partner immediately flinched and moved the foot bending his knee. 

“Your legs ok?” 

Starsky got his elbows under him and lifted his head. “Sure. Little bent. Little bruised.” He winced and moved the other leg, then lay back down. “Just kinda dizzy...thought I’d wait for you to rescue me for a change.” 

“Well I’m here, buddy, let’s go.” 

Starsky thrust a hand up and Hutch watched it periscope through the air with no real direction. Like Starsky was drunk, and unable to pinpoint his next drink on the bar. “Little help..” 

“You really are dizzy, huh?” Hutch asked, and grit his teeth forcing his left hand to hold the flashlight. His fingers barely closed around the shaft, but he managed, and offered his right hand to his partner, clapping his palm against Starsky’s. 

Starsky flinched at the impact, like he hadn’t been expecting it, then clung to Hutch, getting unsteadily to his feet. 

A minute later Hutch realized Starsky wasn’t tracking. He couldn’t find his footing, his hands had immediately found Hutch’s shoulder and stayed there, and Starsky’s forehead had bent toward his arm. Starsky took a minute to get steady then he looked up...but instead of focusing on Hutch’s face, he looked at Hutch’s ear. 

“Kinda dark out here, huh, pal?” Hutch said. 

Starsky blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes with a blood smeared hand then said, “Yeah. Pitch black.” 

Hutch knew, Starsky realized. Hutch knew that his partner did too.

“Got a tricky climb back down.” Hutch said. 

“K.” 

Hutch grabbed Starsky by the elbow and stepped down, described the move to his partner and stayed with him until he had managed it. The rest of the descent into the canyon, and the walk to the bus went the same way. Hutch would get to solid ground, and give Starsky a distance to travel and the shape of the next foothold he was searching for, keeping a hand on him at all times. 

At the bus Hutch climbed the steps, got Starsky situated on the bottom most step then looked to the pale, sweat bathed faces of twenty bodies. All were sitting upright, including those that weren’t breathing anymore. There were smears of dirt and blood in the aisle. Jacobs, Abrams and Faukner were still on their feet, but they had done what they had been asked to do. 

Hutch had to admit that he was stunned and he fought the urge to analyze why the boys had done it. “Jacobs, Faukner…” He said softly and motioned them both to the front of the bus. “What have you got for me?” 

“Uh...lots of busted arms and legs. Bloody heads. One of the guys on my side is real broke up inside. But he’s breathin’ still.” Jacobs said, shrugging as if the human carnage didn’t bother him. 

Faukner licked his lips then said, “Same for me. Chatham probably got his knees all out of place. But he still kickin’. And...you know...there’s seven dead ones.” 

“Anybody dizzy? Having trouble talking or seeing?” Hutch asked quietly. 

“Everybody dizzy, cop.” Jacobs said. 

“If anybody starts puking, tell me.” Hutch clarified, an edge to his tone. 

Both of the boys made faces of disgust at the thought, but nodded to the command and went back up the aisle. The lack of back talk told him the bodies were having an affect after all.

Hutch sank to the floor and said, “Gonna look at your head, Starsk.” 

His partner grunted softly, but didn’t flinch when Hutch parted his hair. A swath of Starsky’s curls was matted to his skull. The blood had begun to congeal, like jelly, and would soon crust over in a scab. Trying to get through the hair to see the wound itself would work against the process that Starsky’s body had already started, so Hutch left it alone. 

“How am I? And don’t say what I think you’re going to say because I don’t plan to hear it and I’d rather you didn’t either.” Starsky said, his head cradled in his hands. 

Hutch sighed and smirked a little then said, “You’re not going to bleed to death.” 

“And how are you?” 

“Also not going to bleed to death.” 

“Oh good.” Starsky felt around him for a moment, shifting on the step until he could put his feet up, and rest his back against something. “How are they?” 

“Acting like boy scouts, instead of miniature criminals. What the hell happened, Starsk?” 

“Tire blew.” Starsky said, speaking gently, as if the words themselves hurt. “Two of ‘em. Pop, pop! One right after the other. I don’t know if I drove through a bunch of nails, or if this bus never had the tires changed since it was built or…” 

“Combination of both.” Hutch offered. He was tired. Ready to not be in charge of wounded young men. Young men that he needed to get up and check on himself as the one adult with first aid training, who wasn’t….who could see. Hutch found himself reluctant even to think the word. Starsky was remarkably calm but he knew his brother well enough to feel the quiet panic. 

“I gotta go check on them. Don’t wander off, huh?” 

Starsky offered a weak smile, that disappeared too quickly. 

Hutch thought for a moment then said, “Hey, make yourself useful. Get that radio working.” 

For a second Starsky opened his mouth, about to give a shocked protest, then he smiled, hard, and started to feel around for the railing to the stairs. 

Hutch got to his feet and watched his partner until the man had at least managed to get to his feet. Abrams helped him the rest of the way into the driver’s seat. 

Hutch checked on each kid, down one side and up the other, talking to those that could speak, and checking the vitals of those that couldn’t. All of them were starting to shiver, both as a result of the cool nature of the desert at night and the result of shock. 

There might have been blankets, first aid supplies, water and more in the storage compartments under the bus. He had to have the keys to get the compartments open, then he would have to either direct or personally give first aid to each boy in turn. If it were possible to start a fire in the canyon it would increase the chances of their being spotted, provide warmth and something else for the restless ones to do. 

The problem was he was tired. He was in pain. In the back of his mind he was reminding himself that these weren’t saints he was trusting, but wild animals. Babies, but still wild. They’d learned too much at their age. They knew enough to be scared, and how to get past the fear. 

They would figure out, some of them, sooner or later, that they had the perfect opportunity to escape, and those that really wanted to, would do just that. And there would be nothing Hutch could do to stop them. 

He heard static burst through the speaker at the front of the bus and was jarred out of the standing doze he’d been in. 

“Abrams, Faukner. Help me get some supplies out of the bottom of the bus.” Hutch called.


	3. The Attack

The shooting started before Hutch could get the last of the storage panels open. Three bullets plunked into the side of the bus and one hit Faukner. The kid grunted, hit the sheet metal siding then went down. Hutch screamed for Abrams to get inside but the kid ducked under the bus and rolled out of the line of fire. Hutch dragged Faukner up, pushing him toward the accordion door. A shot shattered one of the few remaining unbroken windows and he heard a shriek from inside. 

Hutch got to the door of the bus just as Starsky found the switch and shut the interior lights off. Hutch went for his gun a second later then shouted, “We’re police officers! What the hell are you shooting at?” 

Starsky felt his way to the stairs pulling his own gun. He found a warm body in his way and asked, “Hutch?” 

“That’s Faukner, he was hit.” 

Starsky felt shirt, lungs expanding, and warm blood. He found an arm, then another arm and dragged the kid up. “Jacobs, get down here, grab this kid.” Starsky whispered loudly and waited until he heard the shift of boat shoes on the slick floor. 

“Are all the lights off?” 

“Yeah, Starsk, you did good.” 

“Where’s Abrams?” 

“The other side of the bus...I hope.” Hutch said. He shifted in the doorway, trying to define the nameless shadows under the bridge. His first instinct was to look up and he’d been searching the edge of the roadway above them but he couldn’t see anything there either. 

“I repeat! You’re firing on police officers. Identify yourselves.” Hutch shouted. 

“You really think they’re going to tell us who they are? Especially knowing we’re police?” 

“No. I’m hoping they’ll think better of taking potshots for fun and go on their merry way.” 

Starsky thought for a moment then said. “How will we know if they’re gone?” 

A second later the gun opened up again. This time Hutch caught the muzzle flashes at the far end of the eastbound bridge and left the door of the bus, hitting the ground and rolling hard. It hurt, but it got him a better angle and he fired until the cylinder was empty. 

The gun stopped, he saw shadows retreating hastily and he dragged himself back to his feet running back to the bus. He watched Abrams’ shadow slip past Starsky before he got there. He was certain he would make it before the shooter could open up again. He hadn’t expected a wild shot. The bullet hit the metal of a discarded steel beam, bounced and dug into his left side, cutting a grove. 

Hutch hit the ground a few feet from the door and rolled behind the protection of one of the few remaining bus tires on that side. He heard Starsky’s gun barking in the darkness. 

“Hutch?” 

“I’m okay. They’re up on the bridge. Thirty yards in front of you.” 

“Yeah, and where are you?” 

“Under the bus.” Hutch said, rolling onto his back. He reloaded his gun, painfully aware of the fact that neither of them had the extra rounds they usually carried. 

Starsky waited, barely breathing, listening harder than he ever had before. He had tried recreating the canyon in his mind. The bridge, the bus. His last memory of sight had involved flying through the bus door and hitting his head on a rock. He hadn’t seen anything after that. Deciding that trying to reconstruct a memory that didn’t exist was stupid, Starsky sent a few more shots out, and up. 

He’d been counting. He had two more left, and one extra clip. 

There was a lull that lasted about thirty seconds, then three shots pinging off the steps and the dash. One of them burned across Starsky’s supporting hand and he yelped. 

“Starsk!” 

“If our plan was to scare them off by shooting at them it's not working!” Starsky shouted. “We’re cops, dammit!! Police!” 

There was a furious conversation above them, the first Hutch remembered hearing since the shooting began. He couldn’t make out the words but it was obvious that he and Starsky had finally gotten through to them. 

“Yer cops, huh? Prove it!” A voice finally shouted down. 

“How?” Starsky shouted. 

“You. The one in the door, out in the middle here with both your badges.” 

Starsky rolled his eyes. “Look I’m not feelin’ too well. How about, my partner comes out-” 

“Anybody else so much as moves a muscle, they get shot. I want your gun out where I can see it, and your badges right now!” 

“You don’t seem to understand…” 

Three shots came down, tossing stones and pebbles before the last one popped the tire Hutch had been hiding behind. The whole bus sank eight inches and Hutch had to backpedal to avoid having the front axle planted in his back. 

“OK! Ok! You made your point.” Starsky screamed, then felt his way out of the bus. He took careful steps, walking the length of the vehicle until he felt Hutch’s hand grabbing his ankle. He bent, letting his shoulder ride down the ribs of the sheet metal. As soon as he was low enough, Hutch put both badges in his hand. 

“They’ve got a flashlight pointed at the ground about forty feet straight ahead. The ground doesn’t look too rough getting there. Just...take it slow, huh?” 

“Don’t have much of a choice.” Starsky muttered, and straightened. His head was rocking, throbbing to beat the band and there wasn’t going to be an easy way of doing this. Each step had to be planned and he had only half the information he usually had. 

As he drew away from the bus he could hear Hutch guiding him, soft directions like, “Left, Starsk.” “Step to the right and follow that path.” “Brush in front of you, go around to the right.” 

Wasn’t this once a game, he thought? Wasn’t this once a fun trust exercise he’d played with his brother in the trash filled alley behind their apartment building? Wasn’t this supposed to have very little to do with getting shot if he did it wrong? 

Starsky stumbled a few times but he kept upright. One of the rocks he’d thought was firm turned out to be a Judas and landed sideways on his ankle. He stubbed some toes and tried not to think about the fact that he had a return trip to make too. Once he was in the light, he heard Hutch softly say, “Stop there.”

He stopped and raised the two badges up. “Yah happy, you maniac!?” He shouted. 

He could hear the two talking again, deciding how old he had to be. Whether or not he was really cop. Just how much trouble they were in. 

Starsky stood in the middle of nowhere for a long time mentally twiddling his thumbs and thinking about all the charges he was going to bring against these two yahoos. He wondered vaguely if they hadn’t somehow caused the bus to go off the road to begin with. He wondered how hard it would be to charge them with causing the accident even if they hadn’t. 

“Alright. You can go back. But I don’t want to hear anymore whisperin’ from that guy under the bus.” One of the voices said. The power that the voice assumed it had grated against Starsky and he shook his head. 

“Nah, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re going to tell me who you are and what you think you’re doing shooting at us.” 

A shot hit something inches from his feet and Starsky jumped to the left. He hit a rock with the bone of his ankle and went down to his hands and knees. He could hear the start of a disagreement happening above him a split second before he shouted, “You’re shooting at a cop! Do you know the kinda time you’ll do for that!?”

The argument dwindled then stopped. “My son is a hot head.” The voice said. Nothing about his tone or his words were necessarily apologetic. “There won’t be any more shooting. Not if you give us Abrams.” 

“Abrams? Who’s Abrams?” Starsky asked. 

“We already saw ‘im you lousy pig!” The second voice shouted. “He’s hidin’ in that bus, and we want him.” 

Starsky got back to his feet, brushed the dirt from his palms and turned toward what he assumed was the bus. He started walking, feeling his way like he had before except that now he was even more blind than he had been. 

“Hey!” 

Starsky tried to judge where he was going based on the direction the shout had come from and altered his course. 

“Stop walkin’!” The younger voice shouted. 

Starsky grit his teeth, his arms spread wide out to the sides like an acrobat on a tight wire and kept moving. He didn’t stop until he hit a ditch he wasn’t expecting and twisted his bruised ankle. He went down to his hands and knees again. A second later he was flat against the ground, covering his head as bullets rained down. 

This time the older voice used force to stop his kid’s itchy trigger finger. Starsky heard shouts, the dull thud of a gun butt against skin and the sound of a body slumping to asphalt. 

“Stay where you are cop. You under the bus. You get Abrams out here right now, or your partner is dead.” 

In answer Starsky heard the bus engine start. The bare rims dug into the dirt on one side, and Starsky could hear the whole chassis rocking like crazy. He couldn’t tell if the bus was moving toward him or away, had no way of knowing how stable it was with half the wheels missing. For all he could tell the bus was digging a deep hole out of which it would never again arise. 

He wasn’t comfortable sitting and wondering. He got back to his hands and knees and picked a direction, crawling, then stumbling forward as fast as he could. He gained more bruises and cuts, but nobody shot him. After a few minutes he could tell where the bus was, despite the echo of the engine noises off the canyon walls. He zeroed in, felt the kick of dirt against his jeans then a hand closing around his wrist and yanking. 

He jumped in the direction of the hand and piled into the bus on top of a warm body. Starsky’s throat was dry, he was breathing too hard and he couldn’t get anything out of his mouth but half-scared gasps. He coughed, working saliva around with his tongue and spitting out dirt. 

“He just spat on me.” A voice said. Abrams' voice, Starsky realized. 

“He was raised by camels.” Hutch said, sounding distracted by whatever he was doing to supposedly save their lives. 

The bus was lurching around like a carousel gone haywire and Starsky eventually extricated himself from the human pile up. He found something solid to cling to and was standing for two seconds before someone grabbed his head and pushed him back down again. 

“The lights are still off, Starsk, but we don’t need to help them find targets.” 

“You gotta be crazy.” He breathed, struggling to deal with the lurching of the bus while riding sideways and not being able to see anything coming. “This bus isn’t gonna make it more than a mile, where the hell do you think you’re taking us?” 

“Away from the crazies with guns.” Hutch said, audibly struggling with the wheel. Something made of glass popped and shattered and Hutch quietly added, “That’s not good.” 

“What!?” 

“It’s fine. We’re fine.” The engine revved higher and harder than it had been and for a few breaths Starsky was convinced the thing was going to blow. When the sound finally died a little Hutch shouted, “Maybe the two of you should get into the seats.” 

“Oh no! I did alright by this door the last time, I’m stayin’ right here.” Starsky protested, both his hands clamping so tightly around the handholds he’d found his knuckles were starting to pound with the rapid beat of his heart. 

A strange, strained groan came out of his partner making him sound indecisive and possibly even a little bit scared. Starsky didn’t like the sound. He especially didn’t like that he had no way of knowing why Hutch was making it. 

“Starsky, I’m gonna need that.” 

“Need what?” 

“You’re holding onto the door controls, I’m going to need to close them.” 

“Why?” 

Hutch was quiet. Starsky moved his hand just enough to loosen his grip, felt the metal shaft he’d been clinging to shift, then closed his hand around it again a second later. 

“It just...might get a little wet.” 

“What!?” 

“Hang on!” 

For three horrible seconds of his relatively short life Starsky became airborne without benefit of wings, parachute or the solid steel body of his treasured Torino to keep him from being smashed like a bug. His feet left the floor and his stomach tried to leave his body via his mouth. Coming back down was going to hurt. He knew this quite well and he made a quiet, one-second vow before he lost consciousness. 

Hutch was gonna pay for this.


	4. The Falls

The drop had come out of nowhere. Beyond the bridge the canyon took a six foot dive that Hutch couldn’t have seen in the dark. It was only the reflection of the moon off a few feet of water beyond the once-waterfall that clued him in and by that time the bus was moving too fast for the compromised brakes to even hope to have an affect. 

For the second time that night he found himself screaming for a bus full of boys to hang on and they plunged over the side. The front end of the bus fell like a stone, their speed nowhere near enough to clear the fall and make a four point landing.

Hutch hit the steering wheel hard and couldn’t breathe. The front windscreen fell out of the bus, intact, a sheet of glass that disappeared then shattered two feet away. He watched the pieces break apart unable to do anything else, felt the impact of the back end of the bus slamming down and settling against the top of the falls and watched a burst of steam fly from the crumpled nose as the radiator cracked. 

He closed his eyes and finally raked a hard breath into his lungs. He tried to push up, away from the steering wheel and realized that he was wedged. The impact had forced his left side into the scant space between the steering wheel and the control panel. He hadn’t felt it going in, but he was going to feel it getting himself back out again. Unless they could find a way to remove the steering column. 

“Starsky?” Hutch listened, his body awakening to other problems. Like that his left arm was tangled on the wheel, his elbow might have gone out again. His partner didn’t respond.

“Abrams!” He had to have hit his head too. There was blood sliding down his cheek, and drops of it collecting on the top of the dash under his left eye. Hutch heard something shift behind him and the first signs of life from further back in the bus. 

“Jacobs!” Hutch was starting to panic a little. The pain he hadn’t felt at first was coming at him like a northern California mudslide. Fast, hard and relentless. Hutch got his free hand up onto the driver’s seat and tried pulling that way, but he wasn’t going to be able to get out on his own. 

“Starsky! Somebody answer me!” He shouted, louder, shifting his grip and tugging again, harder this time, pulling past the pain. Right when he was about to give up and rest he felt himself move, felt the pressure against his left hip loosen a little and then he was free. He tried to settle in the chair but it hurt too much and he ended up on the floor beside it, on his right side, waiting. 

“Hutch…” 

Hutchinson breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Boston brogue and he closed his eyes. “You ok, partner?” 

At first all he heard was Starsky panting, pushing air through his nose and sucking it in through his mouth. He didn’t expect the two-year-old like tantrum. The door rattled and shook and it sounded like Starsky was kicking anything in reach before he demanded, “What the hell kinda stunt was that? Are you crazy?” 

“Uh…” Hutch began, but he wasn’t sure he could answer the question without making his partner more angry. He decided silence was his friend and let it fill the bus. 

Starsky took over, discovering his own new dents until he took in a sharp breath and said, “Ow…” Hutch heard him shift then call, “Abrams?” 

The blonde opened his eyes and tilted his head back glancing up the long, ascending aisle. He was surprised to see the hind end of a teen boy crawling on his hands and knees toward the rear door, now hanging ajar. Hutch reached his right hand toward the strut of one of the seats and worked on righting himself. The second crash had made his left side feel like mush, slowing him down. He couldn’t use his left hand anymore and all the way down to mid-thigh was throbbing. 

Hutch tried three times to get to his feet then gave up and dragged himself along the aisle a foot or two. 

Two of the dead bodies had slid from the seats, slipped down the incline and were crammed against the metal wall that separated the front seats from the driver area and door. The sight arrested Hutch’s climb, and for a long time he couldn’t look away. When he finally did Abrams was gone. 

“Hutch? We gotta get these kids outta here.” Starsky was moving, somewhere below him. He heard his partner cough, then shift and eventually watched the dark-haired detective drag himself into the driver’s seat. With practiced ease, Starsky got the radio to turn on and started sending a mayday again. A mayday that Hutch was certain nobody was going to hear. 

In the meantime he was very afraid that Abrams had either deserted them, or worse, was giving himself up to the two wackos with guns. He didn’t know how many of the boys had survived the second crash and the knowledge that there were already seven deaths bloodying his hands took the air out of him. He started going back. He started second guessing and double thinking and throwing ‘what ifs’ out like they were going out of style. 

He didn’t hear Starsky successfully making contact with the outside world, passing out instead. 

When he opened his eyes again there was light in the sky, light filtering through the cracks in the roof. Light flooding the bus so hard and fast, it couldn’t have been natural.

The slap of chopper blades bled past the ringing in his ears and he blinked. He tried to move his left hand to protect his eyes from the glare, but the second his arm shifted he was blindsided with pain. 

“Don’t move, Hutch. Don’t move.” 

Hutch wanted to lift his head and get a good look at his partner, but shifting his neck at all awakened the dragon in his skull. “What...um?” 

“That’s a medical chopper. They’re here to get the worst of the kids out, then they’ll be comin’ for you buddy.” Starsky said, sounding tired. 

“What about you?”

Starsky sighed with a carefree note to his voice that made Hutch wonder if he was on drugs, or drunk. “I dunno. I thought I’d stay here with the bus. Make it into a summer home.” 

Hutch offered a weak chuckle then asked, “Did you hit your head?” 

“Yes.” Starsky said, with little hesitation. “I have hit my head multiple times this morning, no thanks to your and your Evel Knievel-style bus ramp.” 

“Did anybody check it?” Hutch asked, a little perturbed. 

“Oh..sure.” Starsky said, sighing contentedly in a way that told Hutch that his partner was 100% on drugs. At least painkillers. 

“What’d they give ya?” 

“David Cet.” 

“You mean Darvocet?” 

“Some o’ that too.” 

“Oh.”

“Real nice people.” Starsky said. 

“Well...of course you would think so. They gave you pain pills.” 

“Are you jealous of my new friends, Hutch?” Starsky asked, and Hutch could hear a triumphant smirk in his voice. A second later he heard the rattle of pills. “They looked you over too, blondie. Left these in case you wanted some.” 

“Real nice folks.” 

“Thoughtful types.” Starsky shifted and his voice got a little tighter. “Wanna chew these up or try to get some water down in ya?” 

“They gave us water?” 

“Of course, they’re not barbarians.” 

Hutch listened to a few grunts and groans from his partner, felt something hit his leg then reached out his right hand. Starsky felt around for his arm, then a metal canteen was slapped into his palm and Hutch tucked it toward his chest then reached his hand out again. This time he was given pills. He swallowed them, along with a good deal of the water, not realizing his thirst until he’d had a chance to quench it. 

“How many of the boys are still here?” 

“Ten.” Starsky said, then cleared his throat. “Ten of them are gone, Hutch.” 

They were quiet for a bit before the dark-haired cop continued. “A few could still walk out of the canyon, the rest were carried up to an ambulance. The worst were taken in the helicopter.” Starsky shifted and the movement created an audible pop, like the sound of metal on metal. Starsky was quiet for a moment, breathing. When he spoke again his voice was strained. “There wasn’t room for the two of us yet. And I figured…” 

Hutch realized he was stalling a minute later and said, “What about Abrams?” 

“A local sheriff showed up with the emergency vehicles. I told him Abrams had split and he had his guys look through the canyon. No sign of Abrams. No shells at the top of the bridge. The sheriff said he thought he had an idea of who the shooters were. He said the road had been blocked, traffic rerouted for a mile in both directions. The tires were probably shot out.” 

“Who did the sheriff think they were?” 

Starsky hesitated. “The sheriff said he’d handle it.” 

“The sheriff just gained nine new underage inmates, all of whom need to be guarded in a hospital. He’s gonna be spread pretty thin.” 

“Hutch, I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but so are we!” Starsky suddenly yelled. “We’re sitting in a crashed bus at the bottom of a canyon with ten dead bodies. We can’t run off and save the day this time.” 

Hutch listened for a long time. His partner’s angry voice and words echoed in his head and he tried to remember the things he knew he was forgetting.

“Do you know what that second crash did, Hutch?” Starsky’s lungs were working twice as hard, his heart rate spiking. “You’ve got more cracks and contusions on one side of your body than most people get in a lifetime. I’m shocked you're still alive. I’m shocked that you’re awake. I’ve got a piece of this bus in my leg and I can’t even see it to tell you where it came from!

Ten of the twenty kids that we were supposed to be guarding with our lives have lost theirs and the rest of those kids are never gonna be the same. Now, that may not be enough for you, but it is for me. We’re going to sit here. We’re going to wait for the ambulance to come back and we are going to a hospital. The sheriff is going to take care of Abrams and the loonies and we are never doing this again.” 

Hutch drew in a breath but was cut off. 

“If you say a word Hutch, one word, that isn’t “Ok, Starsky. Whatever you say, Starsky” I will personally knock you back out.” 

“Ok, Starsky.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Whatever you say, Starsky.” 

Hutch heard his partner sigh and stared at the ceiling of the bus, the tortured metal run through with cracks and gouges. 

“What’d they say about your eyes?” 

“That they weren’t doctors, and they had no idea.” Starsky said quietly. 

“Maybe it’s just a swelling thing-” 

“I don’t...want to talk about it, Hutch.” 

“Ok, Starsky.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Whatever you say, Starsky.” 

That got a snort out of his partner and Hutch felt himself smirk. 

“Have you talked to Dobey?” 

“No. I was gonna do that at the hospital. Gotta talk to Ernsberger too.” 

“Want me to handle it?” 

“No...I’ll do it. From what I understand the plan is to put you under an x-ray machine and keep you there for about a day.” 

“Maybe I’ll get a tan.” 

“Hah!” 

“You in the bus! Throw out your guns, and come out with your hands up!”

Hutch listened to the vacuum of sound that followed the shout. He didn’t want to admit it but the voice was familiar. 

“Why aren’t they gone?” 

“I don’t know.” Hutch said. 

“Why aren’t they tucked away in a mountain hide-out? Huh? Why do they gotta keep pestering us?” 

“I don’t know, Starsk.” 

“Do they think we’re a vending machine? They shoot a few bullets into the bus and out pops another kid criminal?” 

“Starsky, I’m lying on the floor. I don’t know-” 

“You hear me cop!?” They both heard the click-clack of a gun being cocked. “I want to see both of you, right now.” 

“Apparently you didn’t get your Wheaties this morning!” Starsky shouted. 

There was a confused break in the conversation, then, “What?” 

“You’re not firing on all cylinders, punk. If we were capable of leaving this damned canyon, and this damned bus, don’t you think we would've gone with the ambulances and the cop cars and the helicopter?” 

“Who, by the way, will be back any minute.” Hutch added, starting the mental process that would lead to the physical work of propping himself up. The painkillers were starting to kick in. 

“I-. I’m gonna shoot!” 

“Go ahead!” Starsky shouted. “But please! Shoot me first. Put me outta my misery.” 

There was another long pause and Hutch got his right arm under his body. He pushed up, one steady, slow thrust that got him off the floor. He twisted enough to get his back against one of the bus seats and felt the bruises settle. Starsky was sitting at his feet on the floor, his back propped against a bus seat. His right leg had a shard of metal protruding out of a stabilizing thickness of bandages. The right side of his face was swollen and bruised and the wound at the back of his head had been covered in gauze. 

“Where’s Abrams?”

Hutch watched Starsky blink for a minute. “He’s dead. Him and nine other guys. Thanks to you.” 

“You’re lying!” 

“Come on in here!” Hutch shouted and he watched Starsky’s head jerk towards him in surprise. “See for yourself! We’re not armed. We can’t hurt ya!” 

The moment Hutch said “armed” he watched Starsky search behind his back and produce his gun. He waggled the piece in his hand, then put up two fingers, then one finger. Hutch guessed that meant two bullets and one clip left. 

“Throw your guns out!” 

“We don’t got guns. We told ya. There’s nothin’ to throw. You think paramedics want guns in their faces when they’re treating patients?” Starsky shouted.

“Well...come outta the bus. Hands in the air. Then I’ll check it.” 

Starsky groaned and bent toward Hutch switching the gun around so that it was coming at the blonde handle first. He grabbed the extra clip and thrust that toward his partner as well, waiting for him to take it. 

“What..wait. Starsk-” 

“Look. He’s paranoid. Maybe he’s on something. He’s not just going to go away. If I can distract him, coax him onto the bus. You can wing him and we can be done with this nonsense.”

Starsky felt around behind him, found a handhold on the back of a seat and pulled himself up, keeping his right leg straight. The move drained the color from his face and broke sweat out over his skin. He rested a moment then pushed all the way upright.

“Starsk, wait...we’ve only heard from one of them? Where’s the other one?” 

“I dunno. Maybe they split up. This one doesn’t have Abrams and he’s pretty unstable. How about we worry about the problem at hand, here, huh?” Starsky drew in a breath and felt his way down the aisle, putting as little weight on his leg as possible. “I’m comin’ out. You shoot me, and my partner and my mother will be very angry with you.”

“Put your hands up! Both your hands.” 

“I can’t do that, turkey, I got a hole in my leg.” 

Starsky disappeared down the steps and Hutch was forced to listen or drag himself up into a bus seat. 

“T-turn out your pockets! Show me your pockets!” 

“What do you think I’m carrying? A derringer?” 

Hutch reached up and dug his fingers into the edge of the seat back behind him. The angle was awkward and the moment he tried to pull himself up the pain that was dulled under the Darvocet roared back to life making him dizzy, nauseous and tired. 

“Look I got nothin’ on me. Will you calm down?” 

“Where’s my dad?” 

“I don’t know where your dad is. And whatever you had against Abrams is ended ok? He’s dead.” 

“Show me.” 

“I can’t show you.” 

“Why?” 

“I know it’s hard to tell, but I’m havin’ a little trouble with my eyes right now. I can’t see. He’s on the bus but there’s nine others on there that are just as dead. I don’t know which seat they put him in. Do you really want to hunt through ten dead bodies?” 

“I...I gotta know he’s dead.” 

Hutch tried again. His right hand went up and he dug his fingers into the vinyl seat back. He gritted his teeth and pulled up, pushing in the opposite direction with his right leg until he had the seat cushion under him. It was impossible to keep quiet, but he managed to keep from screaming, giving himself a minute to recover before he dug Starsky’s gun out the sling they had put his left arm in. 

“You gotta know? Why do you gotta know? What did he do?” 

“None of your business cop!” 

“Hey. Hey! I’m makin’ it my business.” 

There was a minor scuffle, one that Hutch could hear more than see. He considered the window, the metal screens that he was convinced could survive anything, then looked over the seat back and up the incline of the bus. 

“Listen to me you little weasel. You and your dad and your little vendetta has killed ten people. You’ve practically cost me my livelihood and nearly killed my partner. What did Abrams do!?” 

“He killed my sister.” 

“He what!?” 

“He killed….he killed my baby sister.” 

“He killed your sister.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And he was arrested for it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“They sent him away for it, right? At age 14 they stuck him in juvie.” 

Hutch had managed his feet and was working his way up the aisle when the conversation outside stopped. He froze, breathing hard, leaning to his right. 

“At age 14...4 years ago, they stuck him in Juvie, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And then what? You hear he’s being released and you and your pops, you decide its time for your revenge?” 

“You don’t understand.” 

“If I had a nickle for every time I’ve had some loon hell bent on getting back at somebody tell me that I don’t understand, I’d do my job for free.” 

“He killed-” 

“He killed your sister. I get that. He’s not the only person in the prison system who committed murder and you’re not the only brother in the world that lost a sister. You know there are hundreds of thousands of mothers, sisters, brothers and fathers out there that watched their loved ones get buried, watched the killers do time, get released. And instead of breaking the law. Instead of killing ten to get to one, you know what they did?” 

Hutch fought the incline. He fought the need to lay down and rest. He fought the burn of abused muscles, and the twitch of cracked ribs. He got to the open back door of the bus and pulled himself up until he could perch on the tailgate. There was a two foot step down to the surface of the top of the falls, then he would be in the open. Exposed to “pops” if he was around. 

“They took their pain, and they took their hate and they learned to live with it. Because deep down inside themselves they knew that if they acted on that pain. If they acted on that anger, they would be no better than the murderer they despised. And you know...some of them went out and helped others that were going through the same thing they were.” 

“You don’t understand.” 

“What? What don’t I understand? Can you tell me? Can you clue me in? Because what I see, what I hear is a little boy with a lotta hurt who would rather hang onto the pain and the anger and the hate, than the memory of his sister.” 

Hutch stood at the top of the falls. He’d turned his back on the set of bridges to the north, and he could feel the sun rising against this left shoulder. If “pops” was back there he didn’t care. He could see his partner, blind, but staring into the face of a teen boy covered in ratty old fatigues. The boy was holding a rifle across his chest like a teddy bear, the life scared out of him even if he should have been the one in charge of the situation. 

Starsky was leaned back against the bus, the weight off his wounded leg, one hand clutching at the front of the kid’s shirt, keeping him too close to bring the rifle to bear. 

“You’re now guilty of manslaughter, at least 7 counts. Once the court decides who shot at the bus first, and which one of you popped the tires that sent us into the canyon, guess who’s gonna go down?” 

“I-I-I didn’t..I didn’t shoot..” 

“Scary, isn’t it?” Hutch called. “Being on the wrong side of the law.” 

To his credit, Starsky didn’t lose his grip, but Hutch saw him jump a little at the sound of his voice. 

“At least one of you shot one the kids back there. His name was Faukner. Now, he’s one of the ones that made it out, but if he dies, that’s going to be murder. Straight out.” Starsky said. “And in a couple of weeks or a couple of months when you stand in front of a jury and tell them whether or not you shot the bullet that busted the tire, or shot the bullet that hit Faukner, I’m gonna be sittin’ at home, eatin’ popcorn, and not giving one rip whether you go away for a couple of years or a lifetime.” 

Hutch pulled his partner’s gun and pointed it at the kid. “Why don’t you put the gun down, huh?”

He watched Starsky’s free hand go out, patting across the kid’s chest until he found the rifle. His hand slipped around the stock and the kid let go of it slowly. Once he had the gun free, Starsky shoved the kid back and to his left, swinging him around until he felt the kid hit the side of the bus. 

“Sit down.” He barked, through gritted teeth. He worked the lever of the rifle until the metal chime of bullets flying from the breech turned into a hollow crank of metal parts.

“Where’s your father?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Hutch worked his way back into the bus, picking the lesser of two evils and deciding that the ramp of the bus aisle was easier to get down than the side of a waterfall. 

“Who’s idea was it? To block off the road and shoot out the tires.” 

“I don't know. I don't remember.” 

“Who shot out the tires?” 

The kid had gone silent, and Starsky could easily hear his partner moving through the bus this time. A minute later he could hear Hutch breathing hard through gritted teeth and the rattle of handcuffs. 

“Stand up kid.” Hutch said, then pushed the cuffs into Starsky’s hands. “Hands behind your back.” 

Starsky had never cuffed a prisoner before without being able to see what he was doing. He found it remarkably easy and wondered how many things in his life he had watched himself do without needing to. 

There was one thing that he had never needed to see to do though and he did it quickly, reading the kid his rights and telling him he was under arrest.


	5. The Escape

“Starsk.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sheriff’s back.” 

“Did he bring an ambulance with him?” 

Hutch stared up the canyon wall at the figure in a wide brimmed hat, wearing a calf-skin vest and a star. “Don’t know.”

“What’s he doin’?”

“Waving.” 

“Why the hell for? He knows we’re down here.” 

They both heard a muted shout echo off the canyon wall.

“Did he just ask, “Where’s Abrams?” 

“Yeah, he did.” Hutch muttered craning his neck to get a better look at the figure mostly obscured by the sun rising behind him. “I thought you said..”

“I did. I talked to him about Abrams. He was supposed to be looking for him.” 

“He’s not here!” Hutch shouted back. 

Starsky felt the kid, Charles, startle beside him, finally realizing that he had been duped. 

“Settle down.” Starsky said, with an irritated wince, shoving the kid back against the side of the bus. 

The voice started shouting at them again and both men strained to make out the words. 

“Ch-chuck...wagon…” Hutch muttered. 

“Chuck wagon?” Starsky repeated, “I mean I’m hungry but this is hardly the time.” 

“What!?” Hutch shouted back. 

They both heard the amplified shout this time, “Do you have Chuck Wagonner?” 

Starsky’s hand snapped out and grabbed a handful of shirt and he pulled the kid closer to him. “Are you Chuck Wagonner?” 

“Yeah.” The kid said, sounding more scared than defiant. 

“We got him.” Hutch shouted back, sending a thumbs up toward the police officer. The man on the cliff returned the gesture then disappeared out of sight. “What’s your dad’s name, kid?” 

“Sam Wagonner.” 

“You sure you don’t know where he woulda gone? Why he would've left you on your own?” Starsky asked.

The kid shook his head, then when Starsky rattled him a little by the tuft of shirt still in his hand, the kid said, “No, I don’t know! I don’t know why he hit me either!” 

“He hit you?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah. Up on the bridge. Practically broke my jaw.” 

“You sure your dad is on your side, kid?” Starsky asked.

They both heard the growl of a jeep cutting along the rough dirt and rock road that ran through the canyon. Starsky felt the kid stiffen and his shoulders start to move, like Chuck was straining to get a look at the vehicle. According to Hutch’s description of the hole they were in, the road was nine feet up on a ridge that would run along the old river bed. 

There was nothing to be seen, yet the kid was still straining.

“Hey...will you calm down?” Starsky muttered.

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to get the jeep down here. The climb up the bus aisle isn’t too bad. You think you’re up to it, partner?” Hutch was saying.

“You take him up, I’ll find a way.” 

“Okay.” A few minutes later he could smell the faint scent of Hutch’s aftershave, the dried blood on his clothes and the sweat they’d both been wallowing in. He heard Hutch grunt, felt the kid get to his feet and leave his grip. 

Starsky clung to the metal sheeting on the side of the bus. Without a person or object to help him orient it was far too easy to feel like he was floating free into space. As long as he could tell what was under his hands, or in front of his feet, Starsky could move with some feeling of independence. 

He heard the two climbing the stairs, then the aisle, and felt the bus rock as their weight shifted. Starsky navigated to the door and was about climb up himself when an arm closed around his trachea. The crook of an elbow cinched tight against his windpipe and there was a second of panic before training, and years of wrestling with creeps on the street, kicked in. 

Starsky shifted, turned his head toward the crook of the elbow and slammed up with both his palms, knocking the arm over his head. His right elbow came back into solar plexus, he felt air on the right side of his face and reached back for a head, preparing to throw his attacker over his shoulder.

The problem was, to accurately perform that move he would need two working legs. He only had one and he realized it a second too late. The dull ache hit, then flared when a hand slapped against his wounded thigh.

He didn’t have time for a choked cry. The hand that had slapped down had taken hold of the shard of metal and was grinding it, using it like a joystick in a cockpit, to control Starsky. The detective dug his fingernails into the arm torturing him, trapped the other arm and backpedaled hard. His attacker was probably about his height or shorter, and the longer he struggled the more Starsky learned about him. 

He smelled of grease paint and probably had camo slashes all over his face and neck. He was either unarmed, or confident enough in his hand-to-hand abilities that he hadn’t brought a gun with him. 

He wasn’t a slob. The stomach Starsky’s arm had hit had been fairly solid and there was no fat in the arms choking the oxygen out of him. Starsky’s desperate backward push sent the both of them eventually tumbling onto their backs. Starsky grabbed a handful of shirt the moment he could, found the man’s nose and swung a fist. 

His timing was off, or his aim was off, or he shouldn’t have been punching from that angle. Something popped and Starsky screamed. But he couldn’t stop. Some of the fight had gone out of his attacker and he had a chance to make sure the man was as unarmed as he’d hoped. 

There was a knife in a webbed belt, ammunition and what felt like blasting caps. No gun, at least no holster, and nothing tucked into a belt or strapped to a calf. Starsky went to roll the guy over and felt him come back to life. 

He had his hand on the guy’s chest, and felt the muscles bunch for a right cross. Starsky’s left hand felt like a mashed potato, so he used his right, getting in a good hit to the stomach before he shifted under the swing. 

Then he felt the guy trying for his knife. 

“Hold it! One more move and you're dead.” Hutch shouted.

Starsky couldn’t have been happier to hear from him.The guy under Starsky froze, breathing hard, then startled the dark-haired cop by shouting, “Run, Chucky! Get the hell out!” 

“You’re...you’re Sam?” Starsky panted, on his knees with his left hand tucked deep into his belly. 

“Run, Chucky!” The man shouted, ignoring the gasping cop on top of him.

“I can’t, Pop.” Chuck screamed in return, his voice about fifty feet away and rising in pitch. “They got me cuffed!” 

“Starsk…” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you get him on his belly?” 

Starsky grit his teeth and breathed through a reminder that his leg was on fire then nodded his head and grabbed a handful of hair. The body under him reacted and Starsky said, “You heard the man.” 

Sam Wagonner responded by slowly twisting in the dirt and planting himself face first. Starsky searched him, pulled his hands behind his back and put a knee against his spine, right over the man’s wrists. 

“Alright, hold it!” An authoritative new voice had come from behind Starsky. Probably from the ridge on the other side of the bus that held the jeep road. “Let him go.” 

“Let who go?” Hutch muttered, then, “Sheriff, I’m Detective Hutchinson, and that down there is my partner. These are the men that caused the accident.” 

“Yeah…” The sheriff said, sounding like he was solving long division in his head. “That was stupid of them, wasn’t it?”

“The kid’s under arrest, in our custody. You can have “Pops” here if you like.” Starsky said, digging his knee a little deeper into the older man’s back. He got a grunt for his efforts. 

“Get off him, Sergeant Starsky.” 

“I don’t know how you do things in your department, but this man is still armed and he’s not secured.” Starsky responded.

A shot echoed off the canyon walls, the bullet hit a rock to Starsky’s left and he felt exploding shards pepper against his sleeve. He rolled away from the path of the bullet, unable to do it without jostling the metal in his leg. He put some distance between himself and Sam Wagonner, anyway, before he clamped his right hand down on his thigh and tried to breathe again.

“Put the gun down.” 

“That’s not gonna happen!.” Hutch shouted. “You know it’s hard to see the resemblance with him all painted up like that, but I get it, Sheriff. Sam is family. You’re protecting your own. But are you really going to risk prison for these two knuckleheads? I mean...you can’t kill us.” Hutch said, forcing air from his mouth in a mockery of a laugh. “The investigation that will come down on you will bury this town. Already you’ve fired on a fellow officer of the law. These two men are guilty of murder, multiple counts. Do you really want to throw the towel in now?”

“Shoot em, Danny. Shoot the hell out of ‘em. We’ll bury their bodies deep, torch the bus and nobody’ll know anything.” Sam shouted.

“You’re wrong.” Hutch returned. “We’ve already contacted Captain Dobey of metro in Bay City. He’s contacted the head of our Juvenile Justice Department and the prison facility that those boys were bound for. The whole chain knows what’s going on.” 

“That so?” The sheriff called, then his gun went off. Hutch’s piece went off, too, firing what had to have been his last round. Starsky started a mad scramble toward what he hoped was the bus, cracking knuckles and knees on rock and brush until he splashed into water and his head hit a stone jutting out of the once waterfall. Stunned, he rocked back on his heels, hands flying to the new pain in his head. 

He could hear labored huffs of air coming out of his partner, just six feet above him. 

Then the sheriff spoke again. “You want to explain to me why I just had a conversation with your captain, reassuring him that the bus of prisoners arrived on schedule, and that his men were ready and raring for their vacation?”

Starsky heard the thud of a gun hitting dirt, then a body slumping to the ground. “Hutch!” 

Fear stormed through Starsky’s veins and he used the dirt wall to get to his feet. He crossed the ground as fast as he could, the metal in his leg tearing away at muscle. His outstretched hands kept him from running face first into the side of the bus and he followed its length to the door. 

He found his gun lying on the dash, right where Hutch had left it for him, and grabbed it, exchanging the old clip for the new one in his pocket. Then he listened, or tried to, beyond the pound of his own heart. 

He got to his belly and crawled up the aisle, moving a few inches every eight seconds. He could hear the sheriff’s boots hit the gravel when he jumped down from the road. He heard the grind of stone and sand as the traitorous man approached the open back door of the bus. 

“Lay that piece down, Sergeant. I’ll let you say goodbye to your partner, then I’ll make it quick and painless.” 

“You really think you’re going to get away with this?” Starsky demanded, suddenly aware of the wet soaking his cheeks. Of the tremble in his arms. 

“I think I already have. Something you two don’t understand is, this is Arizona, Bay City law don’t mean shit to us out here. We take care of our own, and we don’t like having big city cops shove their overload in our faces.” 

Starsky strained to hear sounds from his partner. Something, anything to tell him that Hutch was still alive. “So why are we still talking?” He asked.

“Well, you’ve got that pistol pointed at me. Be hard to explain how I got a bullet wound, if you’re supposed to be lost in the desert somewhere between here and Vegas.” 

“Good point.” Starsky said, then thrust up on his knees and emptied his clip. He felt a bullet tear into his left shoulder, heard the sheriff making a surprised, choking shout then heard him hit the side of the bus and go down. 

“Danny!” 

“Pop!” That was Chuck, screaming for his father and weeping. “Danny’s dead.” 

Starsky stayed on his knees, wishing he couldn’t feel anything. His shoulder was numb but it wouldn’t stay that way. His leg hadn’t stopped aching and his head was wailing at him. The stiffness in his left hand was getting worse. Starsky awkwardly popped the clip out of his gun with his right hand, forced the fingers of his left hand to feed the old clip in, then told himself he was Captain Marvel.

He shoved the gun into his waist band and dragged himself to his feet. His shoe got tangled in a sheet and he collected it, then another, taking on the incline on his feet, until he couldn’t push anymore. 

The rest of the way out of the bus, and onto the top of the waterfall, he accomplished on his hands and knees...relatively speaking. He spilled out of the back of the bus, rolling over the sheriff’s body and into the dirt until he came to a stop, curled in a ball. 

He wanted to rest. That was all he wanted for two seconds. Just a chance to rest, but that chance was stolen from him with the sound of Sam Wagonner storming up the aisle of the bus. Starsky followed the sound and flipped onto his side in the dirt, pointing his gun again. The pound of boots came to a halt. 

“I got enough bullets in this clip to blow you and your kid away, Sam.” Starsky said blinking at a gray world. “If my partner’s dead….I got no reason at all to let you live.” 

“All I gotta do is wait, cop. The way you’re bleeding, you won’t last long.” 

“You want me to shoot you now, then?” Starsky asked. 

“Pop-” 

“Shut up, kid.” Starsky shouted, gritting his teeth and trying to sit up. There were too many pains, too many holes in his body. One too many limbs had been compromised. Worse yet he was starting to feel cold, the shivers going down his spine weren’t helping anything, and he couldn’t hear Hutch breathing anymore. 

“Get over there, and check on my partner. And you better hope he’s still breathing.” Starsky said, straining to hear every move the man made. 

He heard an uncertain shift on gravel, two steps coming toward him, and Starsky swung the muzzle of the gun up. The footsteps stopped, then went away from him. 

“Pop, he’s blind. He told me he was blind.” Chuck shouted, still sobbing. 

“I said, shut up, kid!” Starsky shouted.

“If he’s so blind how did he shoot your uncle square in the chest, huh?” Sam retorted angrily.

Starsky worked on pushing to his knees, noticing that at certain angles he could tell where the sun was. Not just by the heat on his face, but a lightening of the dark gray he’d been staring at for hours. 

He heard the shift of cloth and a pained groan from his partner and demanded, “How bad is it?” 

Sam didn’t respond, and Starsk heard Chucky’s sobs wind down, dwindling in the silence. “Hey! Answer me, turkey!” 

Sam moved suddenly, Starsky heard his foot dig into gravel and felt the air moving a few feet away. There was no time to react, even his trigger finger felt sluggish. Then he heard the dud-click of the hammer of Hutch’s gun coming down on an empty chamber. 

“You got balls’a stone, ain’t ya.” Sam breathed, then tossed the empty gun. Starsky did everything in his power not to react to the noise of it hitting the ground. “Your partner’s been shot.” 

“I know that.” Starsky said through gritted teeth. “How bad?” 

“Went through his gut, on the right side.” 

“Put your hand down on the wound-” 

“I ain’t touchin’ your pig friend-” 

“You better find a way to stop the bleeding or I’ll mop it up with your kid’s corpse.” Starsky hissed.

A second later he heard Hutch move against the rocks at the canyon bottom, protesting wordlessly to the pain. 

“Now what?” Sam demanded and Starsky wondered that too. His shoulder hurt now. He could feel the blood soaking through his shirt on the left side. He had the sheets with him but he couldn’t let go of his gun to do anything about the hemorrhage. 

Chuck was cuffed, the sheriff was dead, and if he was to be believed, there was no backup coming. The ambulance and the helicopter they’d been expecting had probably been called off by Danny the Corrupt Sheriff too.

“Put one of these sheets over the wound, then pick him up.” 

“What!?” 

“Pick...him up. You’re going to put him in that jeep.” 

“Fat chance, cop.” Sam said and Starsky used one of his remaining two bullets, shooting it in the direction Chuck had last been in. He heard the kid yelp and whimper under Sam’s sudden shouting.

“Okay, Jesus, I’m doing it…” 

Starsky listened, focusing on whether or not the sounds matched what he could see in his head, drawing each breath in and pushing each out with the silent creed that he would not pass out, he would not let his partner die, he would not let the criminals get away. 

He tried to figure out the angles. All the logistics. How was he going to get them out of this. He tried to remember where the cuff keys were and patted his pockets with his gun hand until he found the tiny lump in his back jeans pocket. 

By the time the jeep engine started, and he heard Sam jogging back across the stones, he had a bare-bones plan. It would never rival those that his partner was capable of but he had the slimmest of hopes that it would work. 

He had managed to crawl over to the sheriff and found the cuffs he carried on a duty belt. He found the dead man’s gun as well. A revolver smaller than the one his partner carried, but just as deadly. He tucked the gun into his belt and took the cuff keys and cuffs.

“Come here.” Starsky said, then. “Tie up my shoulder with this.” 

In response he felt a kick against his bad leg and he curled over the wound. Sam’s hands were at his instantly, trying to pry one of the guns loose. Starsky pounded the butt of the revolver at the ground until he found Sam’s feet. The man yelped and skipped away. 

When he came back Starsky saw a flash of white in the gray, and heard the flutter of the sheet. Sam wrapped it over his shoulder and around his chest, laying several layers of cloth over the wound and tying it tight. He wasn’t gentle about it, but Starsky could tell he knew what he was doing. 

“Get me up, and to that jeep.” 

Sam didn’t take as long this time, but he was fuming as he did it. Starsky could feel hot breath on his left ear as he was pulled upright. The white splotch at the corner of his vision stayed, right where he could feel the sheet tightly wrapped around his shoulder. Now if only the jeep road could be as white…

Starsky kept an iron grip on both guns, but could do little else to help with the climb. Concentrating on breathing and not passing out exhausted all other efforts, and he forgot the plan repeatedly while digging at the loose ground with his feet. 

When they got to the jeep Sam chuckled. “Seems your partner wants to drive, cop.”

“Hutch?” 

“Got...got you covered, partner.” Hutch said, his voice barely there. A moment later Starsky felt Hutch’s hand closing around his left arm, pulling him up and into the jeep.

“Here’s...a gun for ya.” Starsky said, thrusting the revolver toward his partner. He fished the cuffs out of his pocket and told Sam, “Put your hands on the door.” 

“You guys are crazy. You ain’t gonna make it. You’re gonna be dead in that jeep at the bottom of this canyon and I won’t have to do a damned thing.” 

This time Starsky was certain, he knew exactly where Sam’s nose was and he snapped the side of his automatic at it, heard cartilage break and shouted, “Put...your hands...on the door!” 

“You broke my nose!”

“Hands!” Starsky shouted, waited for the smack of palms on the door and put his gun in his lap, long enough to snap the cuffs around Sam’s wrists. He couldn’t breathe after that, and sat back gasping.

“S’go...Hutch.” Starsky managed before he passed out.


	6. The Hard Drive

It felt like he had a hot poker in his gut. Every jolt of the jeep on the dirt track would set off tiny explosions that ranged all over his abdomen, and the bullet would move just a little. It hurt and it burned, zigzagging back and forth with the rough road. For his own sake Hutch wanted to slow the jeep, take the bumps a little easier, but time was the one thing neither of them had. 

 

Hutch focused on two things, keeping the bunched sheet against the wound and keeping the jeep moving. Everything else went by the wayside until the winding canyon road dumped them on an open desert plain, right next to Route 40. The roadway was even with the desert floor and it was clear that the jeep path had been used before to get to the major thoroughfare. The question was, which way should he go?

 

It was probably an hour to Winslow one way, and he had no idea how long it would take to get back to Flagstaff. Given the unfriendly nature of Winslow’s law enforcement Hutch was leaning towards the bigger city in the mountains. 

 

He’d crossed the eastbound lanes and was preparing to pull onto the westbound when Starsky woke. 

 

“We still in the jeep?” Starsky asked. 

 

“Yeah, we’re still in the jeep.” Hutch responded, pulling the vehicle onto the road. 

 

“Where we goin’?” 

 

“Flagstaff..” Hutch said, then gritted his teeth for the taxing work of getting the jeep up to highway speed. There were fewer bumps now, and those the jeep did hit were reduced by their speed. 

 

“This is...crazy. This whole thing is crazy.” Starsky muttered, grunting as he squirmed in the seat. 

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“Can’t get comfortable.” Starsky groused, starting to shake, unable to stop it.

 

“It’s a jeep. It’s not made for comfort.” Hutch said, then fought a wave of dizziness as they passed over a bridge. He pushed the jeep a little faster and wove around a semi.

 

A second later he remembered whose jeep he was driving and he reached toward the radio on the dash. He couldn’t get to the dials without bending and his first attempt nearly drove them off the road. 

 

“Wanna see if you can get Flagstaff PD on that thing?” Hutch asked, passing another semi. 

"What thing?" 

"Radio." Hutch said, then guided his partner's flailing hand toward the set.

The pain in his side became just a little more than unbearable for a few minutes, he couldn’t figure out why. He felt the blood drain from his face and a weight settling against the bone of his hip. He tried to breathe through it, watching Starsky fiddle one handed with the radio.

 

“Mayday...Mayday...need emergency connect with Flagstaff PD. Two officers in need of medical assistance. Please come in.” 

 

They waited, careening down the road at increasing speeds while the static filled the car and both men struggled to stay upright. 

 

“Mayday, mayday. Police-” Starsky ran out of breath and slumped against the glove box in the center of the seat, releasing the talk button on the handset. He was seconds from passing out when a voice responded. 

 

“This is King Tom, driving a big rig between Winslow and Flagstaff. You wouldn’t happen to be in the Winslow Sheriff’s Department jeep I just passed?” 

 

“Headed toward Flagstaff...yessir.” Starsky said, his head starting to nod. 

 

“All drivers, this is King Tom. On boulevard 40 eastbound. Any available, westbound covered wagon we’ve got two county mounties in need of medical.” 

 

“Breaker 19, acknowledge King Tom. This is Little Boy Blue. I’ve got a westbound parking lot. Got a 20 on those mounties?” 

 

“Exit 233..” Hutch said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

 

“Passing Exit 233, westbound, Little Boy Blue.” Starsky said.

 

“Will do, Mountie. Pull into the granny lane and back it down. I’ll be on your six in fifteen. Meat wagon’s on its way. Over.” 

 

“Roger.” Starsky managed.

 

A second later Hutch was veering for the slow lane, jamming on the brakes and getting the jeep back to a reasonable speed before he let them coast off the road altogether. He got the emergency brake on and turned on every light the jeep had installed for departmental use before his hands left the wheel. They sat and waited while a dozen vehicles passed, then Starsky let go of the handset. 

 

Hutch watched it snap back home, then bounce on the wound coil. 

“Still hungry?” He asked, forcing himself to put as much pressure as possible against his side. 

 

Starsky listened to the sweep of heavy trucks passing them and thought about the card game in the back of the bus. The snacks. The boys. 

“Yeah.” He said finally. “Wadda’ya say we...grab some burgers on our way to…”. His voice faded as he ran out of air.

 

Hutch managed a tight smile then looked at his partner. Starsky was shaking so hard he’d almost knocked the compress clean off his shoulder.

 

“C’mere, pal.” Hutch said and gently laid his arm over Starsky’s shoulders, drawing him down until his head was in Hutch’s lap. Hutch let his arm rest over Starsky’s chest, his hand over Starsky’s hand, helping increase the pressure.

 

Starsky groaned, empty eyes staring up the ceiling. “D’ya ever wonder, how a couple’a screwups...like us...got be detectives?” 

 

Hutch shifted his hip, straightening the joint a little and taking some of the pressure away from the persistent pain that had settled there. He leaned his head back and let his lungs work for a minute before he said, “Maybe we’re just...unlucky.” 

 

“I think...that bus..” Starsky tried to shift his wounded leg, his new position forcing the piece of metal against bone. By the time he finally got his leg out of the passenger side and sticking out of the jeep he’d forgotten what he was saying. 

 

“The bus?” Hutch asked, watching his partner’s eyes blink sluggishly. 

 

Starsk drew breath in through his nose and said, “Yeah. S’cursed.” 

 

“Ok...cursed, how?” 

 

“Think ‘bout it. We’re on the bus...I get robbed of my snacks…” 

 

“And your wallet.” 

 

“And my wallet...and then we get attacked and we crash…” Starsky felt Hutch’s grip tighten, and he could hear his partner’s lungs start to work harder than before. He shifted his eyes towards where he figured Hutch’s face to be and was surprised to see a pale splotch there, surrounded by darkness. 

 

He waited for Hutch to overcome the wave of pain, then tracked down his thought again, muttering quietly. “We get...busted up, kids get busted up, we get shot at, kids get shot…” He stopped to breathe and closed his eyes. 

 

“Then..” Hutch said, in a rush of air, “I drive the bus off a waterfall.” 

 

“We get more busted.” Starsky said, his muscles aching from the shivering. “Then...the minute we...leave that damned bus behind…”

 

“Your theory...has merit.” Hutch said, then looked in the rearview mirror to see a bright blue hooded semi with an empty auto transport trailer pulling off the road behind them. 

 

The moment the truck came to a full stop, both the passenger and driver side doors opened, and two men charged across the ground between the two vehicles. The man that came to Hutch’s side was tall and thin, with a bushy mustache and wispy dark hair flying out from under a tan cowboy hat. He got to Hutch’s side, got a good look at the blood, bruises and dirt covering both cops and had to take a deep breath. 

 

“Oh damn. You two weren’t kiddin’.” The driver immediately went to rearrange the compress at Hutch’s side and pushed a hand behind the blonde cop checking for a second wound. 

 

Seconds later the driver’s partner skidded to a halt on Starsky’s side and looked in with the same reaction. The second man was blonde, wearing a ball cap and flannel. He wasn’t as tall as the driver but showed more muscle. The blonde man spent two seconds glancing at the thigh wound then went for the shoulder, carefully checking the sheet.

 

“You guys are…Little Boy Blue…?” Starsky grunted. 

 

“Yeah, I’m RJ. That guy over there is Cam. You two are a mess, why the heck wouldn’t ya go into Winslow?”

 

“S’long story.” Hutch said.

 

“If you two don’t mind the piggy back, probably best if we have them drive the jeep onto the trailer.” Cam said, eyeing the blonde haired man on the other side of the vehicle. 

 

“I’ll pull it up.” RJ said, then took off toward the tractor trailer.

 

“You boys the reason there’s a hole in the eastbound bridge over Diablo Canyon?” Cam asked, taking over the job of putting pressure on Hutch’s side. 

 

“Is that what it’s called?” Starsky slurred. 

 

“It’s named after a...an old ghost town up the arroyo. If you boys spent a lot of time down in that canyon, I’m not surprised you came out of it lookin’ the way you do.” 

 

Behind them the tractor’s engine came to life and the body of the cab trembled with the power of the horses underneath. RJ spent a few seconds on the radio, clearing the granny lane for a few miles before he pulled back into traffic and slid in front of the jeep on the side of the road a quarter mile ahead. 

 

“What’dya mean?” 

 

“Lets just say that lawmen never lasted long in Diablo Canyon...something of an outlaw hang out back in the 1800s and it hasn’t changed much since.” 

 

“Told you.” Starsky said. “Curse.” 

 

“What’s your name?” Cam asked, watching the blonde leap back out of the truck and run back to lower the two ramps secured to the side. They landed with loud clangs and puffs of dust.

 

“Hutch.” The blonde cop said, then he weakly pointed a hand at his partner and said, “Starsky.” 

 

“Alright, Hutch, take her slow an easy, right up those ramps ahead. I’ll stick with the two of you in the jeep here, and my brother will get us into Flagstaff.” 

 

Hutch waited for Cam to climb into the back of the jeep, then released the emergency brake and focused on driving. 

 

“You drive truck with your brother?” Starsky asked.

 

“Sort of. It’s a temporary gig. RJ’s a lawyer if you can believe it.” 

 

“Oh. What’s he doing...on a rig? Slumming?” 

 

Cam grinned under the mustache and laughed. “I wouldn’t repeat that to ‘im, he’ll leave you on the side of the road.” 

 

Once the jeep was on the track Cam jumped out and secured the ramps. “Shut down that engine and set the emergency brake!” He called, running to the cab.

 

“Starsky..” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Feel like I know that guy.” 

 

“Yeah? T-think we can trust ‘em?”

 

“Kinda late to be asking that question.” Hutch said, watching Cam scramble back across the trailer even as RJ pulled the truck into traffic. Cam had climbed into the back, a blanket tucked under one arm, before they got up to speed. 

 

“We got about twenty miles to cover, and RJ’s got Flagstaff Memorial on the horn.” Cam said, laying the blanket over Starsky.

 

“You didn’t...contact Winslow...did ya?” Hutch asked. 

 

“No. Figure that’s your business to handle.” Cam said. “You uh...you sure you guys are cops?” 

 

Starsky snorted and Hutch managed a weak smile. 

 

“You guys can...do us one more favor.” Hutch said, feeling Starsky go limp in the seat. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Call...Captain Dobey...Bay City...PD…California.” 

 

“What should I tell him?” 

 

“Hutch?” 

 

“Starsky?” 

 

Cam leaned into the front seat and eyed both of the wounded men, now passed out cold. “That’s a shame.” 

 

********

 

“Hi there. Am I speaking to a Captain Dobey?”

 

“This is Captain Dobey, who is this?” 

 

“My name’s Cam Smith. Two of your detectives asked me to call. You see I was driving a rig from South Carolina to California, and I was going through Winslow when I picked up this radio call.” 

 

“Winslow...radio call? Listen this line is for official police business. You tell those two jokers to sober up, I don’t have time for their pranks.” Dobey snapped.

 

“Captain, they aren’t drunk. They’ve been shot.” 

 

“What!? Where?” 

 

“Well, one of them in the side and-” 

 

“Where are my detectives?” 

 

“Flagstaff.” 

 

“Flagstaff, Arizona?” 

 

“Yeah. At Memorial Hospital.” 

 

“Alright, tell me everything you know, and then I want you to stay there, as a material witness, until I or one of my men can get there.” 

 

“Sir, I’ve got a rig that I have to have in California. I’m already an hour behind.” 

 

“Mr. Smith, we are talking about two police officers who-” 

 

“But, my brother RJ is with me, and he can be your witness.” 

 

“Excuse me.”

 

“My brother. He’s a lawyer, but he’s been…moonlighting.” 

 

“As a truck driver?” 

 

“Y-yeah.” 

 

“I’ll need your license and cab number, an address and phone number, then you can tell me what you know.” 

 

“You’re a very understanding man, Cap-” 

 

“Can it! How did my men get shot?” 

 

“Well...I can’t really answer that, Captain.” The trucker said, “I just answered a mayday call those boys put out. But I can tell ya they looked like they’d had the hell beat out of ‘em, and they insisted that I contact only you.” 

 

“Really.” 

 

“Uh..yessir. They were driving a Winslow Sheriff’s Department jeep but they didn’t want us to let Winslow know where they were.” 

 

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line that ended in the faint buzz of static. 

 

“What’d you say your brother’s name was?” 

 

“Uh...uh..well, Captain...look I gotta go. I’ve got to hit the road…” 

 

“Wait a minute, I want to talk to the both of you-” 

 

Cam winced as he hung up, telling himself that he would do well to never show up in Bay City. That captain had sounded mean. He headed down the halls of the hospital, found his little brother pacing like an expectant father and glanced to the closed doors marked OR. 

 

“Anything yet?” 

 

“Probably won’t hear anything for another couple of hours. I hate to say it, Rick, but we can’t get involved in this. We’ve got troubles of our own, not the least of which is a 3000lb rented monstrosity that’s due back by noon tomorrow.”

 

“I know that.” 

 

“And we won’t be paid if we don’t get it back on time.” 

 

“I know that, too.” The tall man in the cowboy hat grimaced and looked around the quiet hospital hallway. “I just feel bad leavin’ them here. And I told the captain that you would stay-” 

 

“You what!?” 

 

Rick winced, and hushed his brother. “I told him you’d stay here until one of his guys could reach Flagstaff.” 

 

“I rented the rig, Rick!” 

 

“A-and I will take care of your investment as if it were my own.” 

 

“I don’t want you to take care of it like it were your own, because everything of yours ends up trashed..or lost...or destroyed.” 

 

“Or repo’ed” 

 

“Or..! You are staying here, I’m taking the truck back.” 

 

“Uh...b-but AJ...uh. AJ…” Rick followed his brother down the hall trying to call him back and keep his voice down at the same time. The hot-headed blonde wasn’t interested in listening and left the hospital with a wave of good riddance. 

 

Rick bolted after him once he heard the familiar rumble of the engine starting and managed to get to the truck in time to catch his duffle bag as it flew out the driver’s side window. He stood watching his brother pull the truck out of the parking lot and decided not to say anything about the jeep still mounted on the back. 

 

“Maybe they’ll count it as a bonus.” Rick muttered, then grabbed his duffle and headed back into the hospital. He planted himself in the waiting room just outside the OR doors and was four hours into an acceptable nap when a hand shook him awake. 

 

“Excuse me?” The voice was velvety and feminine and Rick immediately pushed his hat brim up with a finger, smiling at the raven hair, dark brown eyes and beautiful lips of the woman in a white coat leaning over him. 

 

“Don’t ever excuse yourself, lady. You’re beyond it.” Rick said, a bright grin splitting his lips. 

 

The beautiful doctor smiled back, but there was weight at the corners of her mouth that immediately chased the joy from him.

 

“What is it?” He asked, sitting up. “Is it my brother?”

 

The lady immediately got a confused look on her face and she asked, “Which one is your brother?” 

 

“The blonde kid!” Rick sputtered.

 

“Hutchinson?”

 

“No, Simon, AJ Simon, blonde hair, blue eyes, dopey smile.” 

 

“I’m sorry..” The lady said after a moment. “I must have the wrong...an orderly told me you came in with the two police officers. Starsky and Hutchinson.” 

 

“Oh...oh! Yeah I...I’m sorry. I’m Ri-uh Cam...uh…” Rick gave her an awkward smile then asked, “Are they uh...gonna make it?” 

 

“They’re still in surgery. I just came on call and I...well I know them. I was very surprised to...thank you for staying. They’re both a long way from home.” The lady doctor shook his hand then turned away. 

 

“Wait a minute, what’s your name?” 

 

“Dr. Samara, I’m a temporary resident.” 

 

“If you hear anything…” Rick said, and the raven haired lady nodded to him, then took a deep breath and left the room pulling the tube of a stethoscope around her neck.


	7. The Lull

A few days later Rick Simon stood outside Flagstaff Memorial with a smug look under his mustache. His arms crossed over his tan shirt and opened moss green jacket, he watched the road worn Winslow PD jeep pull into the parking lot, his little brother AJ behind the wheel.  
Rick didn't have to move. AJ brought the jeep within inches of his boot tops, a sneer on his face.

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

"Couldn't hurt to have friends in Bay City, AJ." Rick said, with the blithe confidence that came with being the older sibling. "We need to start thinkin' about a place to put an office. A town to settle down in. How do we know that won't be Bay City?"

AJ shook his head and stared out the crescent shape he'd cleaned on the windshield. The rest of it was caked in mud that would likely never wash away.

Rick continued. "With our good buddy cops Starchy and-"

"It's Harsky and Stutch." AJ batted back, squinting toward the sliding glass doors under the ER bay. "How are they anyway?"

"Pretty good for three days away from death." Rick said, digging into a breast pocket and producing a list.

"What's that?"

"To do list. We got bad guys to catch."

"No." AJ tried, knowing it wasn't going to deter his older brother.

"Shove over." Rick responded, glaring until his brother opened the driver's side door, got out, slammed the door shut and stood in the way of the mud spattered handle.

"Who's paying us?" AJ demanded. He'd asked twice before but the past few answers had been uncertain and vague over the phone.

"Bay City PD." Rick said, this time sounding a hair more confident about it.

AJ kept his position, blocking the handle to the driver's side door, blue eyes steadily studying his brother.

"You've got a receipt, a promissory note, something...in writing?" AJ enunciated, eyebrows going up toward his hairline.

For a second a familiar, dead-eyed look came over Rick. AJ could never tell if it was Rick's balloon being deflated, his brain catching up to the conversation or a reluctance to admit that he had, once again, not thought through a situation. It always seemed to take Rick a few seconds before the battery kicked in and he got a response.

"AJ…" Rick chided, picking up steam again, "We're talking about police officers. The boys in blue." Rick's hands had gone to his hips, his voice expressing disappointment and shame. Rick took the stunned look on AJ's face as an opening and spat out, "If we can't trust the cops, who can we trust." Before darting around his brother's back end and yanking the door open.

AJ jumped away to avoid getting mud smeared on his clothes and watched his brother climb into the jeep, still not ready to consign his life to the new 'case'.

"You're telling me, you talked to Harsky and Stutch's superior, and have valid reason to believe that we aren't going to be arrested for meddling in police business once we, inevitably, get into trouble." AJ plucked at the glossed over colloquialism with the knowledge that an associates degree in law had gained him.

"Sure...I told Captain Dopey about all those cases we'd worked in Florida. Even had him put in a call to your old boss."

"Dopey?"

"And he said he was real grateful for our help."

AJ waited, expecting more, but got nothing. Except the hangdog look that Rick gave when he got tired of a verbal battle. "And said, please go ahead and continue this investigation." AJ tacked on, watching Rick shrug.

His older brother turned over the engine and the brakes squealed as he put it into gear.

AJ sighed. "You're going to look into this regardless, aren't you."

"Yep." Rick said, fighting a smirk.

A spark came into Rick's weary eyes and AJ realized that after camping out at the hospital for a few days, his older brother probably hadn't gotten any more sleep than the blonde had, driving to and from the coast as quickly as possible.

AJ plodded around the back of the jeep, reluctantly, fighting a smile as he got into the passenger side. Rick left some rubber on the asphalt before they were out of the hospital parking complex. They got onto 40 and took to the new highway with a burst of black smoke and a spray of desert sand.

"So you talked to their captain?" Rick gave him a nod. "And...what were these guys working on?"

"Nothin'."

"Helpful, Rick."

"It was nothin'. They were helping the juvie guys out of a jam. Got a touch of Blue Flu up that way."

"Ok, helping how?"

"Delivering a bus full of kids to Winslow." Rick said, tossing a knowing smirk to his brother.

AJ gave him a lingering look of disbelief. "Two of Bay City's best are sent on a cake mission and they come out of it in a stolen jeep, soaked in blood, and you want us to take a whack at it?"

"Yeah." Rick said, grinning.

"This is a suicide mission, Rick. If that's all you're hoping to accomplish you can count me out!" AJ had to shout to be heard over the wind whistling through the jeep's open windows but he would have been shouting anyway given the subject matter.

"It's not a suicide- look, AJ. Those guys were cops. According to what I got out of the blonde guy the sheriff that attacked them wanted something that we don't have."

"Wai-hold on. Sheriff? There's a corrupt sheriff involved now?" AJ squirmed in his seat tempted to try to get out, certain that his fate would be better at fifty miles per hour on the highway, than where they were headed. "This is for the IA, the FBI, a hundred organizations with way more guns and guys."

"AJ.." Rick chided, apparently still not concerned about the risk. "Winslow's a small town. The FBI storms into the place and everybody clams up. The two of us slide in, like a couple of good ol' boys, and we'll quietly get a few of the locals on our side, get some answers, slip back out again without anybody noticing. Easy Peezy."

"We're just gonna slide on into town?" AJ demanded, his hand scything forward with the motion of the word.

"Yeah." Rick said, shrugging.

"In a stolen, police jeep that took three bottles of upholstery cleaner to get clean."

The blank look again, and Rick's lips pursed out under the mustache.

"They're going to be looking for this jeep...wha-"

"That's my point exactly, AJ." Rick jumped in, back in the game. "We head into town. We tell them we're truckers, we picked up this jeep on the side of the road on an empty run and we're just returning it. Doing the good men of Winslow's blue a kind turn."

"This being our only transportation, how do you propose we get back out of town?" AJ demanded.

Rick didn't respond right away, eyes bouncing back and forth. "I kinda figured...by then we'd have a little backup from Flagstaff...or Bay City."

AJ sat back in the seat, knowing that at some point he was going to have to accept, as he always did, that this mostly unplanned method of working with his brother was, in the end, the one they always used.

And despite his better judgment, but for a few cuts and scrapes and bruises...broken bones, he was still alive possibly because of it.

"Look." Rick interrupted his thoughts. "I told the captain we were licensed investigators and we were going to get an idea of the mess his guys happened into. That's all. He verified our creds and promised us a check. We're not busting down the Berlin wall here, we're just stickin' in our noses and seein' what we come up with."

AJ settled back against the passenger seat, still aware of the dried blood he'd spent hours cleaning, and equally aware that his body and his brother's were just as fragile as those of the two cops that almost died outside the little desert town.

It was mad, really, trying to infiltrate a town with a corrupt sheriff. There was no telling who they could trust, who they couldn't, who would be willing to turn against the town to support outsiders, and who would turn out to be a double agent.

It would have been better for them if the small town was mostly unaware of the events of the past few days, but as they rolled down main street that was clearly not the case. Black bunting and banners were everywhere, over front doors and private businesses and the public library. The town was in mourning and the Winslow police jeep became the only float in a very short parade, almost immediately.

They drew a dragnet of looki-loos and a cruiser that had probably last seen a criminal in 1952. By the time they had pulled into the parking spaces in front of the court house that doubled as a police station they had their hands in the air, staring down the muzzles of half-a-dozen police issue revolvers.

AJ was trying not to grind his teeth, his jaw so tense it hurt. He flashed his brother a glare that said everything the both of them were thinking. Their whole plan for subtlety had failed rather quickly.

They were directed to step out of the vehicle by a man that might have been the deputy sheriff until very recently. His name tag still read Deputy Reuben but the blazer he wore said SHERIFF, and so did the mourning band around his upper arm.

There was a long, tense silence as Rick shut off the engine, the cops around them confused, angry and ready to get a little payback.

Rick gave AJ a glance and found that his brother was staring at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and said, "Listen fellas...we uh...we found this jeep see...on the side of the highway-"

"Shut up!" Sheriff Reuben shouted, the word coming out of his mouth and traveling down the lengths of his arms, making the muzzle of the gun in his hands bob. "Shut up and put your hands on the wheel."

The gun traveled a hair closer to Rick's ear as Reuben leaned in, feeling for the visible lump that indicated a holster and drawing Rick's .45 out of the leather. The gun disappeared, behind the sheriff and into the hands of one of his officers, and Reuben's hand was back, going places Rick normally wouldn't let a man go.

He grit his teeth and set his jaw and stared forward while Reuben, overzealous in his new role, satisfied himself.

"Y'done?" He snapped as Reuben drew back, watching the man's eyes bounce to meet his, then back to the repeated process one of his officers was performing for AJ.

A point in his favor, Rick thought, the new sheriff was nervous, but he wasn't a hot head.

The doors to the jeep were opened and both men were encouraged none too gently to get out, then were cuffed and pushed toward the jail. The sheriff might have had a cool head but not all of his men did. Once they were out of sight of the boss, who chose to stay with the jeep, looking over the vehicle, the tension was broken swiftly and silently.

Rick was tripped, one man thrusting his leg in front of Rick's left ankle and two hands shoving at his shoulders, pushing him into a fall toward the pavement that he could do nothing to stop. He caught sight of AJ hitting the bricked wall of the building before his brother bent over a thick fist planted hard in his gut. The rest took less than a minute. Each of the officers got in a hard, well placed kick or punch to both, then they were dragged up to their feet.

The officers made a few cracks about clumsy out-of-towners, not able to handle Arizona heat, then went silent. There was no humor in the jokes, and no pleasure taken from the beating. It hadn't been an act of sadism.

The one warning that a weary Hutch had managed to give him before Rick had left the hospital had been cryptic. "They take care of their own."

But now Rick understood.

Once inside the building the officers were entirely professional. The clerk taking their personal possessions turned a blind eye to the swelling bruise on Rick's forehead, and didn't seem surprised to see AJ panting and in pain. They were processed swiftly and left in a jail cell without more than a few terse directions spoken to them.

Once his hands were free, AJ had wrapped his arms around his middle and gone to the bunk in the back of the small cell, carefully sitting down.

Rick put his fingertips to the source of the pain in his head, then quietly joined his brother, wincing at the pull of abused muscles in his back. While they sat in silence Rick kept an eye on his baby brother until the blonde leaned back against the wall with a pained sigh.

"We're gonna slide in like a couple of good ol' boys..." AJ ground out through gritted teeth. "Get a couple of locals on our side."

"AJ…"

"Which one of those guys were you intending to befriend?"

Rick pursed his lips. "Alright so the plan backfired a little-"

"A little!?"

"OKay a lot!" Rick barked, irritated at being interrupted. "Did you catch the name of the cop that tripped me?" Rick asked, glancing around the simple cell, and through the bars into the hallway.

"They tripped you?"

"Yeah, right before they used me for a boot scrubber. Guy's name is Waggoner."

"So?" AJ asked.

"That list I had, the one they stuffed into the personal effects envelope?" Rick pursed his lips, fingertips feeling along the tenderness in his ribs. "Pretty sure he was on the list of suspects we were supposed to check out."

"Oh...good." AJ said, his voice dripping with baffled sarcasm. "I take it back, Rick. You were right on the money with this plan after all."

"Thought you'd see it my way." Rick muttered, not sure he appreciated the lip his brother was giving him, but considering the beating they'd just taken he maturely chose to let by-gones, be by-gones.

For all the magnanimity of Rick's decision, AJ hardly seemed to notice.

********

Hutch had been awake for a day and a half, dealing with the poking and prodding and the endless wheelchair rides in between long naps. He'd kept a close eye on his partner but the curly-haired man had remained stubbornly unconscious.

Given the head trauma, the doctors told him not to be concerned about it, but Hutch knew Starsky. The man liked to sleep in from time to time but this was ridiculous.

The day Starsky finally did wake, Hutch had been out of the room, clinging to the wide handrails that spanned the hallways, going for what he optimistically called a "walk". Luyu Samara, the native Californian woman who had assigned herself as their personal physician, had been kind enough to get pajamas for him, and for Starsky, knowing the preferred mobility of her patients and having the decency to clothe them properly. There had been plenty of hints on Luyu's part as to whether or not she wanted Hutch to stay clothed, but they'd both been mature adults about it.

Starsky clearly hadn't noticed the PJs set out for him on the night table. Hutch could tell because he was staring at Starsky's bare ass when his partner lurched like a sleepwalker out of their shared hospital room. He seemed impervious to the draft as he limped down the hall, blearily peering into rooms, obviously searching for something.

This told Hutch two things. First, his partner could see! Whether or not the loss of eyesight had to do with cranial swelling or something else had been a favorite topic of conversation between himself, the surgeon and Luyu.

The second thing was something he'd expected after watching Starsky sleep for longer than normal, and he quietly followed in Starsky's wake, moving at the fastest possible hobble that he could manage. He caught up with his partner in a nurse's lounge and smirked at the man staring into an empty refrigerator.

Hutch sidled up next to his partner and carefully put his arm around the other man's back, closing up the hospital gown.

"Hungry." Starsky muttered, then turned to eye his partner and gave a tired, lopsided smirk. "Hey Hutch."

"Hey Starsk. You know you don't have pants on?"

"What?" Starsky asked, then glanced down at himself, pawing at the front of the hospital gown for a moment before he said, "Oh. Thought it was chilly…"

"This place isn't self-serve. All you had to do was push the button...and a pretty nurse would have brought you something."

Starsky snorted, seeming a little drunk. "Couldn't find the button."

Hutch figured it was the painkillers that were keeping him that woozy, and making it so that he couldn't feel the wound in his leg. Thankfully Starsky's arm and injured hand had been bound to his chest, preventing him from tearing open any stitches.

Starsky turned slowly in a circle, scanning the room before he added. "Can't find any nurses…"

"The longer you stand out in the cold like this the more of them you're gonna attract."

Starsky smirked again, this time a hint of pride on his face. "Thank you."

Hutch laughed softly, collecting the open back of the gown again and closing it for his partner as the man wandered over to a chair set in a beam of sunlight. Hutch grabbed his partner's free elbow, wincing sympathetically at the blood that had escaped when Starsky pulled his IV tube out. He helped his partner lower himself into the chair, and joined him a minute later pulling another chair over.

Starsky leaned back into the beam of light, closing his eyes and sighing deeply in satisfaction. "Had to find you." He slurred sleepily.

"You did a good job, partner."

Starsky's head came up suddenly and he squinted at Hutch then asked, "Weren't you shot?"

Hutch nodded. "Twice."

"Did they get it out?"

"Course. Gave it to me for a souvenir."

"S'good. Have Huggy make you a necklace." Starsky said, then patted Hutch's shoulder with his hand. "You could use some sun, pal. Looking a little pale."

"Blood loss'll do that to ya." Hutch said, glancing toward the busy hallway and smirking at the profile of a harried doctor, rushing past.  
"We've got a friend here, you know?"

Starsky blinked, studying Hutch for a long moment before he asked, "Capt'n Dobey?"

Hutch shook his head, heard a faint sigh coming from the figure now standing in the doorway. "No...he's stuck in Bay City. Heard he's hit the streets, they're so desperate for help."

Luyu had been flustered at first, the two times Hutch had watched her stomp past the room, hunting for Starsky. When she'd finally spotted the two of them in the nurse's lounge her consternation had turned to the good humor that had attracted Hutch to her in the first place. Luyu stood for a moment, fighting a smile, then put up a finger and disappeared again.

Hutch nodded then turned his attention back to his drifting partner. "Wanna guess again?"

"Huggy?" Starsky asked, his face and voice easily showing the doubt he had in the statement.

Hutch pointed toward the door and Starsky blinked as he turned his head away from the sun, squinting at the blurry figure entering the room with a wheelchair. When she finally came into focus Starsky gave Luyu Samara a lopsided grin. "Hey Doc…" He greeted joyfully, his voice breaking a little.

"Did you get him out of bed?" Luyu demanded softly, pushing the wheelchair across the room before she parked it close to Starsky's sprawled, bare feet.

Hutch gave her an innocent shake of the head that she wasn't sure she should believe.

"He's hungry." Hutch explained, backed up by Starsky's emphatic head nod. A second later his partner giggled, then reached out his free hand toward Luyu, collecting her fingers and gallantly kissing them. The kiss lasted a little longer than it had to however and Hutch gently separated the two.

"Hands off my woman.." He said quietly.

"She's not your woman. She likes me better. She said so." Starsky muttered, but was ignored.

Luyu had bent to inspect the damage caused by the hastily removed needle and was shaking her head at both of them. "I don't know how he can go from unconscious for days to a disappearing act in seconds but I'll take it as a good sign. Do you mind returning to your room so that I can check you out? You can take your repast there if you like."

"I prefer this room. It has a nice view." Starsky charmed.

Luyu didn't respond, hands busy getting Starsky upright in the chair, then glanced to Hutch.

"I've already seen more than enough." Hutch said, theatrically whispering from behind his hand, "There's nothing on under that hospital gown."

They were both loopy. That was the answer, she decided. "Come back to the room and I can fix that problem, too."

"She's very demanding, Hutch." Starsky said, grunting at the effort of movement.

"Must be all that college." Hutch agreed.

"I like a woman with smarts, though…" Starsky said settled into the wheelchair with a strange crook to his mouth.

"Back off, Lothario." Hutch warned, preparing to rise from the chair like he had done at least a dozen times before in the past two days. A million times in his life. He didn't quite make it before a twitch in his side twisted his face into a grimace and he leaned back against the seat instead.

With a sigh, Luyu had bent to push the first of her patients out of the room, and eyed the flushing skin on Hutch's face before she said, "You are to stay put. I'll be back for you."

The pain started to show as Starsky settled back against the padding of the wheelchair but he gamely kept up a slurred commentary until they were back in the room. Luyu quickly transferred her patient from the wheelchair to the bed then went back for the other one. Alone with both men, once more united in spirit now that Starsky was awake, Luyu felt a contentment that she couldn't have found anywhere else.

By the time Starsky was dressed in his new pajamas, his wounds redressed and the blankets tucked around him with a fresh IV in his arm, he was exhausted. He went to sleep quickly and Hutch stayed awake only a little longer talking with Luyu about what was to come for Starsky, for the two of them...for the town that had done this to them.

"What happened to those two...um…" Hutch trailed off, blue eyes steadily disappearing behind heavy lids.

"The private eyes?"

Hutch drew in a drowsy breath through his nose and said, "Yeah."

"They left. The blonde one brought back the jeep...the...the sheriff's jeep. I think they were going to drive it down to Winslow."

"Oh." Hutch muttered, practically unconscious before he suddenly rallied. His eyes widened and he stared at the wall opposite his bed for a three-count. Surprised, Luyu glanced over her shoulder not sure what Hutch was seeing. "Tha's a bad idea." He muttered.

"What is?" Luyu asked, stroking Hutch's arm with a hand, going for comfort.

Either it worked, or whatever was bothering the blonde detective went away. Hutch slipped into a light sleep and Luyu quietly left the room, Hutch's final unspoken thought nagging at the back of her mind.

It wasn't until the end of her shift that she finally came to the conclusion that Hutch had. Something like the old Bible story of Daniel in the lion's den. The absolute last place Rick and AJ Simon should have been going in a jeep that belonged to a dead sheriff, was the very town where the man had been killed.

That night she couldn't sleep and by four o'clock the following morning she had already completed her morning routine and was dressed for the first day off she'd had in two weeks. She called the hospital briefly to make sure both of her patients were still recovering, and had remained in their beds overnight. The night nurse seemed a little flustered but confirmed that both men were sleeping still.

She made one final phone call, to information, getting directions to the main hospital in Winslow. She hadn't spent much time with Rick, the older of the two brothers, but the time she had spent had convinced her that he was a good man, if a little quirky. Hutch's unconscious concern was still bothering her. Even more, she was aware that while she was there to look after Hutch and his partner, there wasn't anyone looking out after Rick and AJ.

Both sets of brothers were too far from home, too far from safe familiarity, to be abandoned. There wasn't much she could do, of course, but something was drawing Luyu to that town. A quick visit to Winslow, disguised as a visit to their hospital from a future practitioner could at least give her some sense of peace. Maybe something to tell Hutch and Starsky to calm their ever working minds.

Luyu left by six in the morning and was back in Flagstaff by six pm. She went straight to the hospital, in possession of far more than she had bargained for.


	8. The Escape Part II

"You say they're in jail?" Hutch was asking, struggling to get his arms through the sleeves of the shirt Luyu had brought for him. The brace that had kept his left arm immobile at the elbow made it impossible to move without pulling at the stitches in his side. This was usually considered a strong indication that he was not to be moving.

"They took them by the hospital this morning for medical care, but to hear Rick tell it, they would have left them to rot if he hadn't started making a stink around midnight."

"Midnight? Last night?" Starsky asked working a pair of cotton slacks over the thick bandages around his thigh.

Luyu only nodded, finally managing to solve the puzzle of getting Hutch's shirt on and moving on to the pants. Her attention kept bouncing between the two men, making sure neither went too far with the haste with which they were dressing.

"Rick said that one of the cops, Sam something-"

"Sam Waggoner?" Hutch asked, stopping all movement and glancing over to his partner. Starsky had recognized the name too and froze. "Sam Waggoner is a cop?"

Luyu bounced her gaze between the two, nodding. "Who is he?"

"The former sheriff's brother." Starsky said, simply before he disappeared behind his shirt.

"What about him?" Hutch asked, snapping his attention back to Luyu.

"He was the one to search Rick and AJ when they went into the jail cell. He's got "the list"."

"List?"

"I had him write a list, of the names and faces he had to watch out for in that town. Damn it!" Hutch winced focused completely on sliding off the bed for a moment, before he caught the waistband of his pants and settled it just below the edge of the bandages. "The plan was to prepare them to avoid trouble, not sail them right into it."

"How badly hurt are they?" Starsky asked, carefully tying the laces of the shoe on his good leg, a real feat with a stiff and painful shoulder and stiffer left hand.

"Not too bad. Enough to make the point. Rick said I should tell you, you were right. They take care of their own." Luyu said, her face flushing a second later, her lips pressing tightly together. She was silent for a long moment choosing not to say the things she was thinking.

Like that she was suddenly afraid for Hutch and his partner, or that she had been surprised at the strength of her feelings for the blonde when she'd seen him again after so long...that she was having a hard time saying goodbye.

"What?" Hutch asked, putting a hand out and catching the doctor's elbow.

"Nothing." Luyu said, then shook her head. She bent to help Hutch into his tennis shoes. Shoes that still bore faded spots of blood despite the cloth she'd taken to them. "Where are you going to go?"

"Flagstaff PD." Starsky said, pulling on the sling that Luyu had brought, and settling his arm into the corner of the canvas pouch. His shoulder hurt, a lot more than he was going to admit to either Hutch or Luyu. He hoped the painkillers would take care of it and the headache pressing against his temples, and he could deal with the rest.

Starksy wasn't going to be left behind, and he wasn't going to let Hutch go off on his own.

"What does Flagstaff have to do with something that's happening in Winslow?" Luyu asked, bending to tie Starsky's other shoe and checking his bandages without much in the way of invitation. It felt so damned familiar, caring for the two men.

"They can shed some light on why the hell the sheriff and his cop brother are attacking buses full of juvenile delinquents, for one thing." Hutch said, taking a few experimental steps and readjusting the waistband of his pants.

"And then what?" Luyu asked, studying Starsky as he got to his feet, then looking between the two men. She couldn't help but feel like she was sending two badly repaired raggedy Andy dolls out onto the battlefield. Barely patched together. Running on adrenaline and too little sleep, instead of the natural energy and health they should have had.

She felt the hum of silent communication between the two brothers a second later, as visceral and real as she had felt it in Tehachapi.  
Neither man knew the answer to her question, she realized and she pulled Starsky into a gentle hug, pecking his cheek before she went to Hutch. The embrace with the tall blonde was longer and more intimate, the kiss had more meaning but both men understood. She was worried, and she loved them both.

"I'll give you a ride up there at least." She said, after a moment of thought. "Be easier than getting in and out of a cab."

******

"Hey! I still want my one phone call!" It felt like it'd been too long. The lovely doctor had promised to race back to Flagstaff and get help. Rick had told her to call in the chief of police of Flagstaff PD and have him contact the chief of detectives in Bay City. 'Get the information out as fast as you can', he'd told her. But that had been hours ago.

"You don't get a phone call, slug. You better shut your pie hole."

Rick grit his teeth and rattled the bars of his cage. "I don't take that kinda lip from my own brother, I won't take it from you much longer!" Except that, in the end, he really didn't have a choice but to do just that. Not until the cavalry came in. Or he and AJ managed to bust out.

The cop perched on a stool five feet away crossed his arms over his chest and laughed. "There's nothin' you can do, cowboy, nothing at all."

Rick smiled slow and feral. "I'm gonna think about it.." He said, then trailed off, leaving just enough of a leer in his eyes that the guard couldn't help but bite. AJ hadn't really been onboard with the idea of escaping, but Rick figured if he got the ball rolling, eventually his brother would jump in.

The guard was trying to work up his bravado, developing a sneer of his own but Rick had seen fear in all its manifestations and he saw a little of it now.

"Think about what, dirtbag?" The guard asked.

"What I'm gonna do to ya…" Rick said, his knuckles going white on the bars as they began to vibrate in their loose fittings. The tone of his voice was a well used cue for AJ, and his brother took his sweet time doing it, but eventually stood, letting blue eyes show a little forced concern.

"Leave the poor man alone now, Rick." AJ said, like talking to a bear cub just discovering what teeth were for.

"No...no, I like him." Rick said, turning the crazy look toward AJ for a second. "I like the way he squirms."

The minute he said the word, the guard obliged and squirmed a little on his chair before he looked to the door that separated the cells from the rest of the police station. He feigned nonchalance, studying his watch for a little too long before he got to his feet and rapped on the door.

"Like the way he looks when he walks away, too." Rick said, mercilessly and the guard fought the urge to turn around and face him. The part of Rick that was mostly still sane was mildly amused by this, but impatient for more substantial results. "Betcha he'll squeal real good…"

The guard knocked again on the door, trying to ignore the increased vibrations from the cell door, the sounds becoming disturbingly rhythmic.

AJ kept his face in character but he was irritated at, once again, being forced to play one of Rick's mind games. They'd tried it once before with this same guy, and while it was working better this time, AJ had the feeling they were pressing their luck.

The mind games had been an unsettling addition to his brother since he'd returned to the States. It was something they hadn't talked about, something he hoped Rick would someday share, and yet at the same time he was hoping there wasn't anything to share. When Rick got into the minds of people like he was doing now, though, AJ couldn't deny that there were a lot of open wounds hidden beneath Rick's normal, laid back nature.

The guard's knocking finally produced a face, then the click-clack of a key in the lock. The guard couldn't leave the cell area fast enough and was followed out by Rick's mocking chuckle. He was immediately replaced by a familiar face, the face they'd been hoping they wouldn't see. This face came with a ring of keys and a billy club, but he stayed near the door for a few minutes, talking to their former guard.

The conversation was low key, Sam Waggoner seemed at first a far calmer subject than the man who had come before him. But when the conversation finished, Sam crossed the length of concrete between the door and the cells in seconds, slamming the billy club against the bars and catching the tips of Rick's fingers.

In the split second that he had to decide Rick chose to stick to crazy and ride it all the way down. Like the trained soldier that he was Rick tucked all that mattered to him into a tiny box in the back of his mind, seconds before the billy club hit and pain exploded from his hands. He kept his fingers on the bars, turning the yelp of pain into a growl. His biceps tensed and he rattled the cage, turning the flash of heat and swelling and uncertainty into momentum and rage that scared even him for a second.

When the pain dulled into a steady throb, Rick let go of the cage and forced his hands to his sides. His face was now bathed in sweat, but his features were frozen in a mask of concentrated anger. Rick stood stock still, staring Waggoner down.

Sam hadn't expected that reaction. He'd expected the skinny man to be cowed, to drop the crazy act and return to the back of the cell. What he saw reminded him of the man Danny had been when he'd come back from a single tour in Korea. The rage that had, over the course of years, bled out of his brother only to come back one final time...the day Haley was killed.

They'd been living with the ghosts of that rage ever since. "You two know the cops that killed my brother?"

Both brothers said nothing, AJ staring with veiled concern at Rick's hands, watching the tips of his fingers bruise before his eyes.

"Killed him in cold blood, while he was trying to do his duty. Left him and me and my boy out in that canyon. Left us to die?"

AJ's head snapped up. "Clearly you didn't."

"No...the damned Jew winged my boy, though."

"Damned...what?" Rick demanded, still seething.

Sam eyed the dark haired man but didn't respond to the question. "I know you two aren't cops. We checked your licenses. Buncha private dicks. What the hell you care about two pigs from California?"

Silence again. The men in the cell were giving him nothing to fuel the anger, nothing to justify the indignation. Nothing to feed the rage. Sam stewed, his face closing and turning red. "Those bastards were protecting that little shit. Hiding him from me. All those little bastards deserved to die, especially Abrams."

Sam quieted, his words echoing against the concrete. "We did the work. We busted 'em, tried 'em, sent 'em away. Sent 'em up to do the time for the hurt they caused and what happens? Big, bad Bay City decides they can't handle it. They send 'em back here."

"You're a cop-" Rick growled, cut off before he could drag the man in front of his own sins.

"Yeah I'm a cop. Workin' my ass off, bustin' the little shits that sell drugs at the public library, on the school playground, off the back of their goddamn bicycles. They're demons and we gotta treat 'em with kid gloves. They can deal, they can rape, they can kill just as dead as the adults, but we gotta treat 'em like babies." Sam had begun to pace, just a few feet one way, then back the other way. The speech was rehearsed. It was a mantra that Sam obviously believed whole heartedly. The thing he talked about most once he got drunk enough. The thing he remembered when he woke up in the morning with only one of his two children still safe under his roof.

His brother being elected to the sheriff's office was supposed to have been the turning point. It was supposed to finally be the odds turning in their favor, the system finally working the way it was supposed to.

"Then Abrams was delivered, right into our hands. None of us wanted those kids back. None of us wanted the streets running with heroin, weed smoke clogging the air. But we wanted Abrams..."

AJ didn't know if Sam realized he was speaking aloud. The man was lost in a trance of twisted memories that even Rick seemed baffled by. They were clearly no longer the man's focus and Rick had backed away from the bars to sit on the edge of the bunk.

He'd raised his hands up to look at them, wincing at the swelling and the bruises before Rick let his head hang. The dark haired man didn't fight him when AJ gently took one hand, then the other into his. Nothing was broken but his brother's knuckles were too stiff to bend very far.

"What happened to them?"

Sam stopped mid-sentence and jerked his head up in surprise. "What?"

"The kids...the boys, the survivors of the bus crash...what happened to them?" Rick asked, intentionally ignoring his brother as he went to the small sink next to the exposed toilet.

AJ soaked a dingy washcloth in cold water and wrung out the excess before he tucked the cool cloth into his brother's open palm. Rick grunted softly and took the cloth without a word, wrapping it around the hand with the most bruising.

Sam stared up at them, something changing in his expression. Like he'd recognized something Rick had said, or perhaps something in his tone. He pointed the billy club accusingly. "You know those cops, don't you? You know where they are...where they went."

Neither of them said anything but it wouldn't have mattered. The silence confirmed it for Sam anyway and he made the bars of the cell chime with an angry slap of the billy club.

"They're still alive." Sam said, his eyes gaining a feral look to rival Rick's.

The tone of voice brought AJ's head up and he gave Sam a tempered look before he spoke. His voice was a low gravel, the sincerity in it so convincing that Rick felt his stomach plummet. "They're dead. Probably, based on the amount of blood we found in the jeep. We just wanted to return your property."

"Where are the bodies?"

"Check the desert." The blonde snapped angrily.

"AJ…" Rick said softly. It didn't sound like a warning but AJ knew it was one.

Sam didn't like the response, clearly, but he stayed where he was, visibly cranking the gears in his head. "What about the list? It had my name on it. The names of those damn kids. Abrams' name. Where is Abrams?"

"We found the list in the jeep." AJ said, and it wasn't the first time he'd said it.

"Who wrote it?" Sam asked, pointing the billy club and shaking it like a magic wand.

AJ fought the urge to look at his brother, trying to think through the implication of the question. It was new to the list of questions they'd typically gone through thus far. Rick, who had spent more time with the two Bay City cops, began to realize the mistake. He tried a bluff, sitting up and wincing at the renewed throb in his fingers.

"You tell me, Sherlock."

"That Jew cop…" Sam said, working through the conversation he'd had with one of the younger officers on the force. "He was left handed...real handy with his gun, up until he tried to punch a rock. Smashed up his left hand...and then my brother shot him."

Sam tapped the billy club against his left shoulder. "Can't write steady if you're bleeding out. And the blonde pig...he couldn't barely move. I practically had to carry him up to the jeep. He was drivin'... When could they've written that list, huh? How?"

"Ever stop to consider they knew about you and your dirty sack of shit brother before they even came to town?" Rick snapped.

Sam slammed the club against the bars and screamed, "You're lyin! Where are those cops?"

The bars separating him from the prisoners was the problem. Sam couldn't threaten them from the other side, and he couldn't open the cage and hope that two against one would end with Sam Waggoner on top. He could see the confidence in the eyes of the two private pigs. They knew they were safe and could sit there and mock him and his brother all night long so long as he was on that side of the bars.

He especially hated the blonde kid. Just as much as he had hated the blonde cop. Blonde like Abrams had been. Blonde and good looking, all of it covering up the sack of shit that he, and his entirely family, were.

AJ watched Sam think, then go to the door that lead out into the sheriff's office. He called four officers into the room and had their cell door opened before the blonde brother realized he was the target of Sam's new plan.

He heard Rick protesting, then heard the solid smack of skin on skin and started to struggle only to get the billy club jabbed into his sore ribs. Still he fought until he couldn't breathe.

He heard a crack come from the cell behind him and heard the yelp of pain that Rick couldn't hold back this time. Then AJ was isolated in the neighboring cell with a seething and panting Sam standing over him.

The door to Rick's cell clanged shut and by the time the older brother was able to pick himself up, cradling the now broken pinky and ring fingers on his right hand, AJ had been cuffed with his hands behind his back.

Sam waited, watching Rick with cold, emotionless eyes until he knew the older brother was entirely focused on him.

"I wanna know where those cops are. That's all I want to know. Right now I don't think you quite understand what it's like…" Sam's voice faltered, tears clogged his throat and he sneered and pressed through them. "...to lose your daughter. Then to lose your only brother." Sam's teeth clenched hard and he shook the billy club. "You're gonna understand. Then you're gonna tell me."

"Rick...don't tell him. Don't tell-AHH!" The first kick broke bone, immediately. AJ felt lightning in his side and couldn't stop the sound escaping him. The pain had been so great that the next five or ten kicks didn't register. They landed in his stomach, along his legs, one high on his chest near his shoulder. They didn't matter.

When the onslaught stopped AJ could hear Rick quaking with rage. "Those cops are dead. Your dirty, son-of-a-bitch brother is dead. You're gonna be dead the second I get my hands around your scrawny, red neck."

Then Sam made his big mistake. The blonde crumbled at his feet had made him feel big, powerful. Made him forget that he might be dealing with someone as well trained as his brother had been. He got too close to the cell wall separating Rick from his brother. He brought the billy club up again and swung it towards the exposed, swollen fingers of the dark haired man's hand.

He didn't expect Rick to expect it. He didn't expect to have the billy club ripped from his hand then swung with crushing force towards his head.

Sam dropped like a stone, his skull cracking a second time against the concrete before he sighed softly.

Rick went to his knees and scrabbled for the ring of keys on Sam's belt, unlocking his own door and rushing into the other cell. Behind him he could hear shouting voices, a fist pounding on the door. The noise of the beating had drawn attention that identified itself as the acting sheriff. But Rick didn't care yet.

AJ was on the floor gasping like a fish, his eyes wide and glazed. His breaths were shallow and ragged, and Rick jerked AJ's shirt up seconds before the blood began to show. One end of the broken rib had punched out through the skin, jagged bone creating a rough wound that had already sent a few trickles of crimson to the floor.

The pounding reached his consciousness along with the awkward position the cuffs had forced his brother into. Rick snatched up the ring of keys, tried for thirty seconds to find a cuff key, then gave up and ran to the cell block door instead, opening it for the acting sheriff.

Rick figured it would take a few minutes of rough handling for Reuben to figure out what was going on. He could allow the man a bit of time to catch up, but right about when he expected Reuben to accept that his man was in the wrong, and that Rick was only defending himself and his brother, the acting sheriff looked up from where he had knelt by the corrupt cop's head and announced quietly that the man was dead.

Rick broke free of the grip the other men had on him and he ran. He pushed one cop into a potted plant, shoved a drunk out of his way and was through the basement door in seconds, tucking his throbbing, broken fingers against his belly and pouring on the speed.

He made it four blocks before the first sirens started. Zig zagging through back yards and hopping fences was only going to work for so long and, he realized, he didn't have a plan to speak of. At all. He needed a phone but that would only do him so much good given that he didn't know the numbers of the people most likely to want to help.

It was by pure happenstance that he noticed the name on the mailbox of the next house. It was like a beacon, pulsing in his buzzing mind until he had managed to stumble through the tangled mess of junk in the backyard. The back door was nothing but a storm door over a piece of plywood. It took two heaves to bust it down before he was inside what might have once been the Abrams' home.

Now it was a condemned rat hole. With a very big, blonde, terrified rat sitting at the kitchen table. The edges of the kid's mouth were ringed with red, remnants of the can of spaghetti sauce he was spooning down his gullet. It looked like the first and last thing the kid had to eat, especially the way he protected the can when he noticed Rick's eyes going to it.

"Are you Abrams?" Rick heaved, his hand suddenly coming to life again, screaming over the rush of adrenaline.

The kid didn't say anything but his eyes had answered for him. So did the kid's legs as he scrambled around the table and out of the kitchen.

"Hey wait a minute, God-" His hand hurt. More than it had when the cops had broken the fingers. He couldn't figure out why until he glanced down and noticed that his hand was now bleeding. "I'm with those two Bay City cops!" Rick shouted, then stumbled to the table collapsing into the single chair there.

The blood was coming out steady, a solid stream that was soaking the back of his hand, rivelling through the gaps between his fingers. He finally found the jagged cut crossing the swollen heel of his hand and pushed it down against his thigh, not trusting anything else in the room to be clean enough not to give him Typhus.

He heard something shift and snapped his head up to see the kid, baseball bat in hand, eyeing him from the doorway.

"Starsky and Hutch?"

"Gazundheit."

"The cops. They're names are Starsky and Hutch."

"I guess, sure." Rick threw up his good hand hastily. "I don't remember their last names but I can describe 'em to ya. Uh...uh...blonde guy, tall and skinny, blue eyes. Slightly shorter guy, kinda muscle-ly, curly brown hair…"

"Eye color."

"When I met him he was blind. He didn't have his eyes open for very long." Rick said. He watched the bat come down and felt a wave of relief hit him, acting very much like the sort of nausea that preceded unconsciousness. Rick slapped his good hand down on the table and hung on desperately.

"You're bleeding."

"Yeah...I noticed that."

The kid responded to the sarcasm with silence and left the room. Rick was ready to write him off as yet another flake in a town full of flakes when the kid came back with a handful of clean-ish looking towels and a bottle of antiseptic with several years of dust coating it.

"This your house?"

The kid set the "supplies" down on the table, clearing some of the dirty dishes, empty cans, soda bottles and rat pellets away. Rick pulled the cork out of the brown glass bottle and sniffed experimentally from a decent distance, loathe to do what had to be done.

The kid finished clearing the table then sat in a second chair that he had unearthed in the process and watched Rick.

"I asked you a question, kid."

"Yeah, it's my house." Abrams said, a bit of attitude coming out in the slump against the chair back, the shrug of his shoulders. "It was...anyway, before they ran my dad and my older brother out of town."

"Yeah?" Rick said, then glanced to the piece of plywood laying across more junk covering the kitchen floor. "Close the door, you're letting in a draft."

The kid blinked at him a long moment, then registered the sounds of the sirens in the distance and apparently decided that since they were both trying to avoid the local cops, making the house look less broken into was a good idea.

While the kid stood up to fit the plywood back into place Rick gave himself no warning at all and poured the antiseptic over his hand.

One thing worked in his favor. After he was done cursing, the kid seemed genuinely impressed at the number of languages Rick had managed to do it in.


	9. The Investigation

Starsky climbed into the back of the powder blue 1973 Buick Electra with a colorful chorus of groans, grunts and winces that his partner echoed on the other side of the car. Both men, once seated, had to rest for a few minutes before attempting to close their respective doors. That chore Luyu wouldn't even let them do, rushing around both sides of her car to gently shut the aperture that would have undoubtedly torn open stitches.

Luyu had the air conditioning turned up full blast to beat the harsh, unyielding mountain sunlight and turned in the wide front seat to face both men. They were sweating profusely, and Luyu was positive not all of it had to do with the outside temperature. She watched two pairs of weary eyes focus on her and slowly pulled a bottle of pills out of her pocket, rattling them with a knowing smile.

Both men sighed in relief, Starsky going so far as to lean forward hopefully, but Luyu captured his hand, holding the bottle out of reach.  
"First, what's your plan?"

Hutch pursed his lips and considered the bargain Luyu was trying to make. Pain pills in exchange for her involvement. His mind railed against it, his inner voice reminding him that this was, technically, police business.

Nevermind that Luyu had pulled strings to get them discharged way ahead of schedule, had undoubtedly pulled more strings than she should have to get the likely high powered pain killers in her sweet little hand, had been the one to drive them to the police station and was there, even now, using her day off to pick them up again and offer to drive them to their next stop.

Hutch was still panting a little when he tilted his head to study his partner. Starsky looked as bad off as Hutch felt. They were pushing the limits as it was, but there wasn't time to rest up.

"Winslow." Hutch said simply, his hand patting the thick manila folder sitting on the seat between him and his partner.

Luyu smiled softly, then produced two ice cold colas and poured two of each of the blessed little pills into the hands of her patients. While they swallowed and settled back, she pulled the Buick out of the parking lot and headed east.

The visit to the Flagstaff PD had won Starsky and Hutch their weapons back (these having been confiscated as soon as both policemen were admitted to the hospital) and enough ammunition to defend a small fort. The ammo had been offered in the spirit of interdepartmental cooperation, hands across the...well mountains...and all, but it was all Flagstaff could give them.

The Bay City cops had iffy jurisdiction, and it was likely that any arrest they attempted to make in the course of the next few days would eventually be ruled unlawful. The plan at this point wasn't necessarily to bring anyone to justice. It was to get Rick and AJ Simon out of the mess that a delirious Hutch had unintentionally put them in, grab as many of the surviving juvenile delinquents they had originally been responsible for as possible and return to Bay City.

Their brief conversation with Dobey had gone as follows:

"What the hell are you two doing out of the hospital?"

"But…"

"No, you are not authorized to go back to Winslow."

"But Captain…"

"The answer is no, Hutch. Damnit...what is it now?"

Dobey had closed the conversation abruptly to answer another call. The dispatcher quietly eavesdropping on the exchange popped her gum in dismay at the two men then shrugged.

"Guess we lost the connection. Want me to reconnect you?"

"Don't think it would make much of a difference…" Starsky had said, giving Hutch a sad shake of the head.

They hated going against Dobey's orders after all, especially when he was in such a good mood. After being expressly forbidden to dig into the matter any further, Starsky and his beautiful blonde ventured throughout the air conditioned building flashing their badges until someone took pity on them and directed them to R&I.

There an eager young cop helped them find any information that pertained to Abrams, Waggoner, Chuck Waggoner's sister and the sheriff. While they waded through the paperwork Hutch filled Starsky in on his conversation with Rick Simon.

"It was stupid, Starsk, and maybe it was the drugs talking but this guy struck me as an absolute professional. Capable, you know." Hutch had paused, his eyes drifting, "Maybe a little too wild to make it as a cop, but...I knew the guy could handle himself."

"You know, there is an argument in your favor." Starsky had muttered supportively. "Instincts are instincts, whether you're high on hospital grade drugs or stone cold sober."

Hutch had stared at him, either hypnotized or lost in thought for a moment, then said, "What...was that Willie Nelson that said that?"

Starsky had returned the blank stare before he leaned forward to put a hand against Hutch's forehead. His partner batted it away, annoyed and Starsky had shrugged. "Just checkin'."

"So what'd you turn up?" Luyu broke into the meandering retelling of the story, fueled by the reduction of pain in both men.

"Sheriff Danny Waggoner was only sheriff for about five years before he uh…"

"Got shot." Starsky interrupted, saving his partner from having to come up with an explanation, and saving himself from having to hear it. "And his brother Sam has only been on the force since his brother was elected. Before that he had odd jobs, and occasionally ended up in the drunk tank in Flagstaff. In fact he was living in Flagstaff and his wife had custody of his kids when his daughter was killed."

Luyu glanced in her rearview and Hutch caught the look of surprise. "Wait..back up. The sheriff of Winslow-"

"Danny Waggoner." Hutch offered.

"And Sam is?"

"The sheriff's brother. Sam, and his boy Chuck were the ones to attack the bus outside Winslow." Starsky said, fishing through the scatter of papers and photos now covering the seat between him and Hutch.

"And the sheriff sanctioned this? The attack on the bus?" Luyu asked.

"Maybe." Hutch said. "In the canyon it looked like he was more interested in cleaning up the mess his brother and nephew had made, though."

"Preserving his office…" Luyu said.

"And possibly the lives and freedom of his family." Starsky said.

"And he's now.."

"Dead." Starsky and Hutch both said at the same time.

"And Chuck Waggoner?"

"We don't know." Hutch said.

"And Sam Waggoner?"

"According to you-"

"AKA Rick Simon…" Luyu interrupted.

Starsky smirked and glanced to his partner. "Isn't it cute how she uses all that cop lingo."

"She must hang out with cops a lot."

"Are you jealous?"

Hutch narrowed his eyes. "Should I be?"

"You guys are ridiculous." Luyu called back, unable to hide the broad smile, or the blush on her cheeks. "Can we focus?"

"What were we talking about?" Starsky asked.

"Sam Waggoner."

"Right." Hutch said. "According to Rick Simon he's been keeping close tabs on the two PIs trying to figure out where we are-" Hutch pointed his finger between himself and his partner. "-and probably wanting to kill us."

"And...Abrams?"

"Ah...the highlight of the day." Starsky said, snapping the pile of pages he'd been fishing for into a crisp pile. "Young Master Abrams was hospitalized four years ago after he was involved in a fatal car accident. Abrams had been intoxicated at the time, as well as his girlfriend Haley. Neither were wearing their seatbelts. Abrams T-boned his car into the front of another car and Haley was thrown through the windshield. She did not survive." Starsky went silent reading through the autopsy report.

Hutch took over, knowing the rest well enough that he needn't study the report. "Abrams was eventually sent up on a manslaughter charge, but because he was only fourteen-"

"Fourteen!" Luyu demanded and Hutch saw her eyes change in color ever so slightly.

"Yeah." Hutch said quietly. "Haley was 14, too. They'd been at a party-"

"Haley had a higher blood alcohol content than Abrams." Starsky interrupted, glancing to Hutch before he showed him the paperwork, the important number just above his thumb nail. "Medical examiner has it tucked down in the notes, but he indicates she could just as well have died of alcohol poisoning as the impact."

"Huh…" Hutch said a moment later.

"What?"

Hutch took in a breath and shifted on the seat but didn't speak for a moment, instead fishing around through the papers.

"What!?" Starsky demanded, annoyed.

"Danny Waggoner has been sheriff for only five years, and Sam joined the force at about the same time. But we don't have anything to prove that Sam was a cop before that."

"How else could he join the force-"

"His brother's the sheriff. Winslow is a tiny town. Who's going to stop the sheriff from hiring his brother and occasionally sticking him in a uniform when the town needs an extra deputy…" Hutch said.

"What are you lookin' for?" Starsky asked again.

"The name of the owner of the other car."

"Who cares?"

"Starsk…" Hutch began, then he hesitated, blue eyes once more scanning the road ahead. "Dan Waggoner wasn't surprised to find his brother and his nephew in a canyon trying to kill a couple of big city cops. Think about it...if you caught Nicky trying to kill a cop, after taking revenge on some 18-year-old kid, how would you react?"

"I'd punch him." Starsky said, almost immediately, then, "I'd be shocked, hurt. I'd feel betrayed."

"Right." Hutch said, his eyes lighting up a bit. "Dan Waggoner was none of those things. He was annoyed. Like he'd seen it coming, and was there to make things right again."

Starsky was nodding but his brow was still showing a crease. "So why do we care about the other car?"

"Because I think this was about more than just revenge."

Both men were quiet for fifteen miles or so, heads nearly touching as they leaned into the center of the back seat, pouring over the papers and photos.

"There!" Hutch jolted, winced and leaned back, pressing his hand against his side before he reached out with the other hand taking the paper Starsky had unearthed.

Both men leaned back against the seats, again falling silent and Luyu watched them via occasional glances in the mirror. The pang in her stomach was telling her that she'd let them talk her into their release too easily. And it told her she was hungry. Without comment she took the next exit stopping at the first restaurant she saw.

Neither of the men in the backseat protested beyond confused glances and once she had parked, Luyu turned in the seat to face them, gently tugging the paper from Hutch's hand.

"Anita Simmons." Luyu read, wracking her brain through the key names she'd only recently learned, finding no connection.

"Dead end." Starsky said, eyes closed against the sun, brow knit.

"Maybe." Hutch responded, the adrenaline leaving his body like air out of a pierced balloon. What he was left with wasn't pretty and he glanced out at the sign advertising the world's best burgers.

They had to make one last phone call. Food wasn't a bad idea either but Hutch felt like he'd just run a marathon. One glance told him his partner was practically asleep, a shock considering their proximity to his favorite food. Hutch sighed and studied the bright brown eyes, dark raven hair and olive complexion of a woman who had, more than once, nursed him back to health.

He put his hand out and collected hers, registering the guilty look in her eyes.

"Wanna be a deputy for ten minutes?" Hutch asked, offering a grin that puckered one side of his mouth. His eyebrows went up as he waited for an answer, and Luyu smiled at him, her eyes doing things to his body that medicine could never accomplish.

Twenty minutes later Luyu was back, bags of food in her hands and napkin full of information clamped between her lips. While they ate Luyu filled them in.

"Anita Simmons lives in Holbrook, Arizona. She's 73-years-old and the car that was used in the accident is still registered in her name but the tags are out of date."

"She probably junked it and forgot to tell the BMV…" Starsky muttered through a mouthful of burger.

"Once I gave them your badge number they gave me the latest address and phone number."

"How far away is Holbrook?" Hutch asked, contemplating how he could despise fried potatoes on most days but today the slender sticks of peanut oil and starch were like heaven.

"About an hour. But I called the phone number."

Starsky smirked in a cocky way but said nothing, cramming a fry into his mouth, Hutch caught the smirk and glared, resisting the urge to smack his partner.

"And?"

"Anita wasn't home. She's at a church function, but her daughter said she'd be back around eight."

"Daughter?" Starsky asked.

Luyu couldn't hide the smile. "Seemed like a nice lady, if a little world worn."

Hutch's eyes were narrowing, knowing that smile. It was the same smile that made Luyu terrible at bluffing. That smile was the reason everyone who knew Luyu, knew she loved snow unabashedly, and collected snowglobes to the point of obsession.

In the silence that followed Luyu finally fished through the second bag and pulled out a chicken sandwich that she'd purchased for herself, biting with satisfaction into the soft bun and crisp fried breading.

Starsky chewed for a moment, swallowed, then glanced over to his partner and interrupted the staring contest. "Is she gonna tell us?"

"She'll tell us." Hutch said, taking another mouthful of beef, onion, mustard and tomato.

Starsky's eyes bounced between the two again. He was grateful to have the use of them but at the moment the strain of keeping track of the two weirdos in the car with him was making his eyeballs hurt.

"Is she gonna tell us today?"

"Just be patient, Starsk."

"Give her one of your fries."

"Give her one of your fries."

Starsky blinked and plucked a weak, overcooked specimen from the bag and offered it toward the front seat.

"That's sad, Starsky. No wonder we keep losing CIs on the streets, you're lowballing the offer."

"I'm prorated, what do you want?" Starsky whined.

Hutch, on the other hand, plucked a crisp, golden brown fry from his bag and reached it toward the front seat.

Before he had to lean forward too far Luyu took the fry with a smirk and a quiet thank you and crunched into it. Starsky watched her enjoy her potato then looked at the wilting fry in his own hand and tossed it back into the bag.

"Jennifer Simmons Waggoner, divorced." She said triumphantly before taking another bite of her chicken sandwich.

Both men paused, mouths hanging open mid-chew. They exchanged a glance.

"Anita Simmons is Chuck Waggoner's maternal grandma?" Starsky asked finally. "So that night, Abrams and a very drunk Haley t-boned Haley's grandma's car."

"Or someone else driving Grandma's car t-boned Abrams and Haley. Remember how I said I thought this was about more than revenge?" Hutch said eyes wide.

A second later something started to beep in the front seat of the car. Luyu, still raptly focused on the dramatic story unfolding ignored the sound for a few seconds before she realized both detectives were staring at her.

She jolted and dug for her pager, blinked at the number flashing on the small digital screen and said, "I think that's Flagstaff PD."

At the same time both men blurted questions. "You gave them your beeper number?" Hutch wanted know, and Starsky asked, "You got a beeper?"

"Yes and yes." Luyu said. "I'll be back."

"She's got a bee-"

"Of course she's got a beeper, Starsk, she's a doctor."

"I want a beeper."

"You're not a doctor. Here…" Hutch reached out and pulled his partner's watch out of the pocket it had been stuffed into in their haste to leave the hospital. "Turn on the alarm on that. You can pretend it's a beeper."

Starsky took another bite of hamburger and looked at the watch forlornly, his passion for the growing world of electronics now whetted once again. "S'not the same."

Hutch groaned and rolled his eyes, polishing off the burger.

"Hey…"

"What?"

"What are you thinking with this Anita lady?"

Hutch popped a fry into his mouth and savored it, chasing thoughts around his head for a moment. His mind had gone back to a statement the sheriff had made, right about when he was drilling a hole in Hutch's side. The memory was accompanied with numbness and pain, shock and calm, and a hundred other conflicting emotions that had raced through Hutch's mind in the moments between getting shot and collapsing at the top of the waterfall.

He'd had control, of himself and of the situation, up until the bullet had hit his gut and he'd momentarily lost feeling in his legs and arms. At first all he could think about was how badly hit he was, how long he could stay awake and affectively protect his blind and wounded partner, how bad off things had to be for the sheriff of the county to be shooting him down in cold blood like that.

He'd heard some of the conversation between Starsky, Sam, Chuck and the sheriff, but he'd started to drift, his mind not letting go of the incongruities of the situation. The detectives making contact with Dobey had been a bluff, and the sheriff had called it, yes. But how could he be so confident that he could get away with shooting down Hutch and Starsky, and killing Abrams? Causing the deaths of 10 other underage prisoners and doing who knew what to the rest that had survived?

"In that canyon, after the sheriff showed up.." Hutch paused, checking to see that Starsky was with him. He saw a thinly veiled haunted look pass behind the darker blue of his partner's eyes and they nodded to each other, once again on the same page. "...I dunno, Starsk. It felt like he'd done it all before. Gotten away with it all before."

"Covered up a wrongful death, maybe." Starsky said.

Hutch nodded, picking up a fry and using it like a pointer. "When I identified myself and told the sheriff we'd caught the men that had caused the bus crash-"

"I remember," Starsky nodded, "He said, "That was stupid of them, wasn't it?""

"Verbatim." Hutch said, his eyes hooding.

His partner shrugged. "I didn't have much to go on then, I remember the details. It was all I had at the time."

The two men studied each other for a long moment before Starsky added, "The sheriff wasn't surprised, right? He knew his brother and his nephew had been responsible."

"Like he knew they were planning it all along." Hutch said, "And hadn't made that much of an effort to prevent them from doing it."

"Do you think there was a different plan?" Starsky asked. "That Sam and Chuck jumped the gun. The sheriff was the one with the big ideas?"

Hutch shrugged, glancing toward the restaurant. "Maybe..but it's a moot point now. I mean...sheriff's dead."

"Yeah." Starsky said, his face souring. He tossed the fry he'd just grabbed back into the bag and glanced up and out the window, watching Luyu push through the diner door.

The wind had begun to pick up and as soon as Luyu passed the shelter of the small, open breezeway, her hair caught, flipping back and up, the full length of it spraying out behind her for a moment. Her face was serious, focused, the way she looked when she was working on her homework, or focused on a difficult patient chart.

She stepped into the driver's side and glanced back at the two men, gauging how much they had eaten and their physical condition before she said, "That was Flagstaff. They got a call from a Rick Simon ten minutes ago."

Hutch winced and carefully leaned forward by inches, bracing his bruised and punctured side.

"They're in a lot of trouble." Luyu continued, her voice dropping in volume. "Rick says Sam cornered them in the jail cells and….beat...his little brother AJ, trying to get them to talk. Rick said that he saw an opening and escaped when he could but he's hurt, and AJ was worse. Flagstaff said he was saying something about a pigeon when they lost the phone call."

"Pigeon?" Starsky asked.

Luyu nodded. "Flagstaff told me, Rick said he found the pigeon and they were to contact you two at the hospital-"

"Abrams." Hutch said, jerking his head toward his partner. "Rick must have found Abrams."

Starsky winced, re-situating in the seat, aching to stretch his leg out. "They give you an address?"

Luyu nodded.

"What about AJ?"

"I don't know. Flagstaff said they had tried and failed to get Winslow PD on the phone."

"That's not good." Hutch said, then closed his eyes against a flare of the headache that had been lingering behind his eyes. "Ok...okay, okay, here's the plan…"


	10. The Find

The phone call had been risky, and Rick wouldn't have tried it at all if it hadn't been for the wigs. Abrams' mom, as it turned out, had died of cancer, but after a long battle. Her only two concessions to vanity had been the two wigs she'd owned. One had been a gift from a talented toymaker and the other donated by the school where she'd taught for ten years.

When his mother had died, the wigs had been left in their protective boxes, untouched by a grieving husband and children. When Abrams had been sent up, and his family hassled so badly they decided to move out of town, the house became a shell of the family home it had once been. What Abrams' dad and brother hadn't taken with them, had been ravaged and picked through by various squatters, and the electricity, water and phone lines had been shut off.

It was Rick's request for a phone that had set off Abrams' monotone recitation of a heartbreaking history, leaving Rick with more information than he'd wanted. He hadn't wanted to like the kid, or feel a connection with him because he'd lost a parent at a young age. And yet...

Once he'd found a way to stop the bleeding in his hand and wrapped it tight enough that the broken fingers couldn't move, Rick had changed into some of Abrams' dad's clothes. He'd stuck one of the wigs on his head, then snuck out to find a payphone and make his call.

His next goal was to find a way to get back to his brother but instead of staying hidden in the house like he'd been told, Abrams had showed up, finally changed out of his juvie tan and sporting the second wig tied back in a long pony tail. The beauty of current fashion made it acceptable for a man to have long hair, but Abrams looked ridiculous.

"Look kid, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but you were better off in that rat hole."

"I been there three days. There's nothing left to eat in there and I ain't got no money."

Rick paused at the end of one of the alleys he'd been using to get across town, and pointed at the shoulder length, straight brown hair the kid was wearing. "That's worth a little money. Take it by a pawn shop, pick up some bus fare."

"It's got Mom's name in it. It was a gift personally made for her." Abrams' said, irritated, then doggedly followed Rick out of the alley and down a side street. "Look if you want to steal a car you're on the wrong side of town. I can jack it for ya, hotwire it even, be your getaway driver."

"I'm not tryin' to get away, I'm tryin' to get back in." Rick glanced around him in a full circle trying to orient in a town he barely knew. "Besides that phone call I made was to the two guys that'll do you the most good. You wait at that house, they'll get ya safe and sound outta town."

"You wanted?"

"What?" Rick asked tipping his head past the corner of a building and scanning the road beyond it before he slipped back into the shadows.

"Wanted?" Abrams asked, dropping his volume. Trying to do the same move Rick had just done, but loose locks of the wig kept falling in his eyes. "By the police?"

Rick thought about Sam Waggoner, the amount of pressure he'd exerted against the man after watching his brother being beaten, the look on the acting sheriff's face. He'd been trying to deny it, to convince himself that Reuben had been wrong. That he hadn't killed a cop, no matter how twisted or corrupt the son of a bitch might have been.

"Sorta." Rick said, ducking around the corner he'd just checked, unable to shake his teenaged tail. They moved together through the narrow shadows until Rick could see beyond the blinding light at the end of the tunnel. Under the unforgiving late afternoon sun there was a dirt covered road, a vibrant green space and the towering courthouse building beyond it.

"I can help you get away. I got some friends around here, man, I can get us a hideout."

Rick glanced at the kid, raised a brow then said. "If that were true you wouldn't have been sucking spaghetti sauce out of a can in your old house."

"But-"

"Look, Abrams-"

"My name's Robby."

"Go back there. You were safe there. Go. Shoo!"

Robby was neither amused nor did he look as afraid as he should have been of the risk of being spotted with Rick Simon, wanted cop killer. Rick grit his teeth against the irritating pounding coming from his hand and growled. It had been about two days of nobody listening to him, or doing what he told them to do, and he was tired of it. He hadn't been a colonel overseas, but the chain of command had been a beautiful thing. For the most part, people did what you told them to do, when you told them to do it.

Civilians tended to argue, a lot. They always wanted to put their two cents in and they bulked like obstinate two-year-olds when you raised your voice at them.

Rick worked at remembering the reasons he'd had for leaving the military after his return to the states as he watched the cops sitting in the lone cruiser outside the station, eating their way through sandwiches and coffee.

The building full of cops wasn't buzzing the way Rick would have expected it to have been with another of their own killed by an outsider, even after a few hours had passed. The thought gave Rick a thin sliver of hope for the value of his own life in this town.

"Why the hell are you goin' back in there anyway?"

"I gotta know what happened to my brother. I gotta get him to a hospital."

Robby was quiet for a minute then walked away. Rick blinked, watching the kid disappear abruptly again, then shook his head and wiped sweating palms on jeans that smelled like camphor and dust.

He knew his most expedient method would be to walk straight in, a stranger off the street there to report a kitten up a tree...or better still, a sighting of himself. His disguise wasn't going to last long though. Even if it meant being reassured that AJ had been taken to the hospital, and not left to rot by a spiteful fraternity reeling from two deaths, Rick considered it worth it.

He'd done what he'd run off to do; making contact with the outside world. Now he had to deal with the guilt that the escape had laid on him.

He was about ready to cross the street when a flood of cops spilled out of the building, heading for their cars and slapping sirens on before screeching out onto the asphalt. Even the two sandwich eaters had responded to a radio call before taking off.

While Rick stared in wonder, Robby Abrams came panting down the alley toward him, grinning at the fireworks of cherries and berries that he'd set off.

"What the hell'd you do?" Rick asked, watching the last of the cop cars pull around a corner before he crossed the street.

Robby kept pace, moving with the ease of youth. "Couple days ago I followed the helicopter that took some of the guys from the bus. They took those kids toward the old alternative center near the highway. I called the cops and told 'em one of the kids spotted me, and we escaped together."

Rick was impressed but didn't respond, scanning the open green lawn and the windows of the courthouse building before he took a deep breath and waltzed back into the police station. The main room was practically empty, the only person there an old receptionist he hadn't seen before.

She looked at their long hair with obvious distaste but tried to force a friendly smile on her face. Rick crammed a few irritations into his box and tried on a friendly smile of his own before sauntering up to the desk. Behind him Abrams tried to mimic the move, looking patently ridiculous in the hairpiece.

"Can I help you?"

"I'd like to see one o' your prisoners." Rick drawled. "AJ Simon. I'm his lawyer."

The woman gave him a once over and laughed, delicately, in his face. Rick flashed her a bright smile that drew her back a little but she chuckled and said, "No, you're not."

Rick kept the smile in place, trying not to translate the immediate dismay that struck him. His eyes searched the woman's knick-knack covered desk desperately for a second before he noticed the messy pile of mardi gras beads collected around a garishly painted skull. "Uh...sure I am." He stuttered, "I represent Hukster, Halley and Cline, of friendly N'Orleans-"

"Norleans...oh! New Orleans, oh really!?"

That had her hooked. Rick put a little extra drag into his drawl, a bit of a Baiyou purr into his R's. In minutes he'd been offered a tour of the cells and the station, free coffee and donut from the snack room and "...dinner at my place, since you've come all this way. But I hate to be the one to bring bad news. Your client was badly injured today and taken to Winslow Memorial."

"Injured! Now, how did that happen?"

The woman flushed hard, and looked a little sick to the stomach. Rick turned away from her before she could turn a guilty look on him. He didn't want to know what lie she'd been told, nor did he want to know if it was a lie she believed, or a lie she was paid to believe. He didn't want to know how deeply embroiled everyone in that station was in the deception.

A second later it occurred to him that the receptionist hadn't hastened to add the death of a police officer.

"Hospital you say, well...I suppose I'll just have to go visit him there, won't I?" Rick said, forcing himself to quickly give the woman an enchante before he tried to head for the door.

Robby had followed him in, and interrupted his escape with a drawl of his own that was bizarre, but passable. "S'cuse me. That man's my brother. Can I have his personal effects?"

The receptionist softened a little and Rick looked at Abrams, surprised at the change on the kid's face. A little broken, a little tired and sad. The kid had some talent. The wig wasn't really helping though, especially when Rick remembered Abrams had blonde hair that rivaled AJ's.

Angrily Rick tugged the stupid wig from Robby's head and pointed a finger in his face. "I told you, you could come in as long as you stayed quiet. Every time you open your mouth your brother stands less and less chance of gettin' out before he-"

Abrams gave him a squirrelly look, and the flash of anger in his eyes when Rick exposed his hair was very real. He was fast though, and screamed. "He ain't gonna die. The doc said all he needed was a….a bone...transfusion. And I'm the one that's going to give it to him."

"What?"

Rick sighed and shook his head. "There isn't time, Miss. Even if you could get us the prisoner's personal effects. He's probably dying over at that hospital, and you, young man, have time enough to say goodbye. That's all."

"But his insurance card!"

Rick gave Robby a confused look that the kid didn't respond to until he realized with a jolt that Rick wasn't following. "My brother's insurance card! It'll prove to them doctors that I'm a match."

Rick got it, and he opened his mouth to respond, but didn't have to. The woman was scrambling to her feet, caught up in the real life soap opera taking place before her very eyes. She knew Hollywood's version of medical knowledge like a true aficionado and saw herself as a brave, beautiful life saving part of the story as she scrambled to the metal cage that served as evidence lock up.

"I can't give you the guns of course-"

"Guns! Heaven forbid." Rick said, even if it bothered him that he might never see his .45 again.

"But those other things...I-I don't really know which belongs to which." The woman had grabbed two manila envelopes from the lock up and was staring at both confused.

"We'll take them both. I'll personally return the items that the boy's brother doesn't own." Rick promised, his voice on the verge of touched tears.

The receptionist gently placed the two envelopes in Robby's arms, looking at him with pity. Robby gave her a brave smile and looked like he was about to hug the woman, but Rick dragged him back by the nape of his neck.

"You have a blessed day, Miss." Rick said, then steered the kid back out of the building and into the setting sun.

Robby put up with the pressure on his neck for a few feet then shrugged free of Rick's grip. "Get off me, man! Take your shit."

The sudden change in attitude bothered Rick for about a second, then he took the envelopes and waited until they had covered a block of sunbaked concrete before ducking into an alley. He ripped the wig off his head and shoved both hairpieces at the kid before tearing open each of the envelopes.

"It's not here."

"What?"

"The list. A list of names." Rick didn't know how much it mattered in the end but he would have felt better with the list in his pocket, or torn into tiny pieces and stomped into the mud. That list had caused more problems for him than it should have.

His hands worked quickly, filling his pockets with personal items, slipping his belt on and double checking that the hidden blade in the belt buckle was still there. Of course the woman hadn't thought to grab his hat, but he wasn't about to go back.

When he finally looked up he watched the kid fastidiously grooming both wigs, intent on the task, his face a mask of tightly controlled emotions. He flashed back to the superb lie the kid had come up with in there and realized it probably hadn't been a lie.

His mother had succumbed to a battle with cancer. The kid probably knew more about the medical treatment available for it than Rick would ever know. He sighed softly and looked to the belt, Swiss Army Knife and wallet in his hands. The only things AJ carried in his pockets most days.

"You plannin' to stick with me, Robby?" Rick asked.

The blonde head came up and Rick watched the kid tuck himself back in, emotionally speaking, before he shrugged.

Rick snorted softly. "The first time I went to the town hospital I was in a van with no windows. You think you can get me there."

The kid rolled his eyes, but Rick had seen the tension ease out of his shoulders at being given an important role. With Robby leading the way, the two stepped out into the growing twilight and the first cool breeze of the day.

*******

Luyu could feel her arms buzzing in tune with her head as she walked through the hospital.

Her encounter with the receptionist had been normal. She'd been recognized and had shared her silly girl story, claiming she'd accidentally left her purse somewhere on her visit today and just needed to find it. The receptionist had offered to come with, but Luyu had talked her out of it, declaring she was embarrassed enough as it was.

She'd been given a visitor's ID and was walking the halls, edging her way toward the ER. She spotted the blonde head lolling on a gurney in a deserted hallway and had to force herself to stop walking, scan the hallway casually then step slowly toward the discarded bed. There was a buzz of voices coming from the treatment room beyond, dulled by the closed doors, but the hospital itself was relatively quiet.

The patient was barely conscious, pale with pain and struggling to breathe normally. "Hi. I'm Doctor Samara...can you tell me your name?"

The blonde had his eyes closed tightly, teeth bared and tapping rhythmically as he worked through the pain. "AJ...I'm AJ." He said, his voice sounding very much like the pre-pubescent squeak of a ten-year-old boy experiencing his first bee sting.

Except that this was a grown man with a broken rib protruding from his chest, left to suffer in a hospital hallway. His eyes opened after a moment and he studied her before closing them again with a soft groan. "Do I know you?"

"No." Luyu said, glancing down the deserted hall, "But your brother Rick knows me."

Blue eyes flew back open. "Rick? Is he okay? Did he make it out?" AJ's voice rose in pitch, his breathing becoming more erratic and the pain escalating at the distress Rick's name had caused.

Luyu wished she could have told him Rick was safe, but she didn't know that.

Instead she said, "I'm here for you. My friends are going to find your brother."

"Can't...c-can't walk." AJ said, eyes closed again, his face so tight he'd have muscle strain in the morning.

"I think I can find a solution to that. Have you been treated?"

There was a silent shake of the head.

"Did they examine you at all?"

"B-blood pressure, temperature...then they brought in Sam and.."

"Sam...Sam the...the man who beat you?"

AJ grunted, salt water bubbling from under his eyelids. He managed a nod, wholly focused on taking shallower breaths.

"He's being treated here? What happened?" Luyu asked, gently guiding the gurney away from the wall and starting it toward the corner.

"Rick hit 'im."

Either that was all the explanation AJ could manage, or it was all the explanation that existed. Luyu was a little too focused on finding the equipment room she was looking for, and AJ in too much pain to continue the conversation.

Unfortunately the room she found was locked and she pulled the gurney into a treatment room instead and blocked the door closed with a wooden wedge. She was limited with what she had access to, even in that room, but she pulled up AJ's shirt and shook her head at the mess Sam had made of his chest.

"You...r-really a doctor?"

Luyu smiled, pushing gently against each rib either side of the large bruise that covered the left side of AJ's chest. She watched each bone as it moved under the discolored skin, deliberately avoiding the broken one.

"Why do you ask?"

"Town's full of...liars." AJ managed.

Luyu stepped away to soak a clean towel in cold water, hunting through the drawers and cabinets that weren't locked, hoping to find something to kill the pain and maybe some gauze to cover the wound, once she'd cleaned it. Resetting the rib she didn't dare do on her own, without anesthetic, but she could stabilize it with enough layers of bandages or cloth.

By the time she responded to AJ's accusation he'd begun to relax. For the sake of the amount of oxygen getting to his bloodstream, the more relaxed AJ was, the better off he'd be in the long run, but the heat beginning to radiate from AJ's head and chest was bothering her. The timing, as it was, stank.

"I'm really a doctor, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm only visiting." She stood in his line of sight with a bottle of 10% saline solution in one hand and a clump of gauze in the other and watched AJ's eyes bounce back and forth between the two. "I promise, I won't try to set anything for now, but I have to clean you up."

"You...you said you're here with...those two detectives?"

Luyu nodded, then shrugged a little. "Relatively speaking."

"D'you bring the cavalry?"

Luyu didn't respond fast enough and AJ groaned, closing his eyes. "This is...one of Rick's plans...isn't it?"

Luyu smirked and poured the saline quickly, cleaning away the dried blood before she packed the gauze around the broken edge of bone. AJ was quiet, trying to hold his breath despite the demand for oxygen that the pain caused. While she worked she reminded him to breathe and watched as his color went from pale and blue, to flushed and pink.

She talked him through getting him into a sitting position, moving in slow increments and watching his face as it changed colors, every few degrees. The rapid redirecting of blood was not a good sign and she knew, without treatment in the next few hours, shock would set in and the end results would be permanent.

"Can't walk." AJ panted again, shaking his head. "Can't-"

"You won't be walking. I need to find you a wheelchair. No walking, but you'll have to sit up on your own for a few minutes."

"K."

"Ok?" Luyu asked, not entirely certain AJ would still be conscious when she returned. She didn't know what she had been expecting based on the Flagstaff PD description of AJ's condition but she had greatly underestimated the damage that a vengeful cop could do.

AJ gave her a second nod and moved his hand to press against the stabilizing wad of bandages. She watched him closely, her hands either side of his shoulders until he closed his eyes with a soft groan, for the moment stable.

She left without a word, unsticking the wedge of wood and scanning the hallway. Wheelchair. Wheel chair and somewhere to kill time for the next few hours because she had found AJ and decided he needed to move a whole lot faster than Hutch or Starsky were likely to accomplish their end of the bargain.


	11. The Road East

"Starsk."

"What?"

"Stop the car."

"Do you see 'im?"

"No."

"Is there a cop car?"

"No."

"Then why am I stopping?"

"I see something."

"I'm happy for you, Hutch."

"Stop the car!"

"Why!?"

"Look!" Hutch insisted and pointed a finger at a dented, white mailbox. Most of the letters in the family name had been scraped off on one side, but the other side was practically pristine.

Starsky slowed the car against the curb opposite the house and stared at the rundown shack that may have once housed an innocent family by the name of Abrams, but now sat neglected and gathering junk. Like a powerful magnet in a workshop.

"It's deserted, there's nobody there."

"Maybe." Hutch sat back against the passenger seat and winced softly, spotting the glow of sunset through a crack in the crowd of neighboring buildings. It wasn't the worst neighborhood in the world, but the Abrams' place was an eyesore compared to the attempt at beauty that the other houses were maintaining. "How much you wanna bet this place is the one that everybody glares at when they go to work in the morning?"

Starsky tilted his head, giving a confused and concerned look.

"You know, the cranky old lady down the block that's been in this neighborhood since the town began and she can't stand that the city won't tear down that crack house down the street."

Starsky kept staring at him and Hutch shook his head with exaggerated shame, prepared to open his mouth and explain in small words where he was going with his thought.

Starsky interrupted him with a soft, "Oooh."

"Up for a canvas, smarty?" Hutch asked with a fond smirk.

Starsky gave a wince similar to the one Hutch had given and said, "We wait long enough, they might come to us." They were silent for a minute, watching the setting sun play against the asphalt and the hood of the car. "Or..what if they call the cops first, and get curious second?"

Hutch jutted his jaw out in thought and nodded. "Small town."

"Very paranoid." Starsky said.

Hutch thought for a moment about a reasonable approach and said, "Salesmen don't come calling this time of night."

Starsky thought for a moment and said, "We can't exactly pull off the 'new couple in town' look, either."

Hutch gave him a mildly wounded look and muttered, "Well if you would shave and let your hair grow..."

Starsky smirked then scanned the houses before he looked back at his partner. They were both bruised, bandaged, unshaven wrecks, moving like 70-year-old men. Starsky wondered vaguely how well they'd be moving when they really were 70-year-old men and felt a shudder go through him that made him suck in a pained breath.

"You okay?"

"Sure. Ghost of future past just tromped over my grave, that's all."

"What?"

"Never mind. Hey-we got a bite." Starsky said, and pointed toward the fluttering curtain hanging in a living room window two houses down.

"No car in the drive, they might have been home all day."

"Just wanna be cops this time?"

Hutch pursed his lips. "Dobey already has enough reasons to can us when we get back, let's not add "identifying ourselves and acting as police outside of our jurisdiction" to the list. How about-" Hutch studied the abandoned house then snorted softly. "How about gas company? That house may have compromised pipes. We need to know if anyone is squatting in it before we tear it down."

"How'd we get all banged up like this?"

"Our last job was in Texas." Hutch said, and gave Starsky a dopey grin that made the curly-headed cop snort, wince then gently swing his door open. Both men took a minute to arrange bandages, canes or slings before they painfully crossed the street and headed up the sidewalk.

The woman who answered the door couldn't have been more than five feet tall and 90lbs soaking wet. She peered at them from behind the safety of the four-inch opening the chain on the door allowed, coke bottle glasses pinched around her nose. She had a mass of long curly white hair that flowed from her head, floating in the slight breeze coming from the house, along with a blast of air conditioning.

"Hello, my name is-"

"You're with the police."

"Uh, no."

Slam!

The door swung shut, the breeze of it lifting curls off Starsky's sweat stained brow and fluttering past Hutch's face, forcing his eyes closed. Starsky turned a baffled look on his partner, watched Hutch shrug then nod toward the door, and turned back to knock again.

"Go away!"

"Ma'am, we're with the gas company."

"I don't have a car!"

"We-" Starsky stopped, a little thunderstruck, and pursed his lips together trying not to smile before he said, "We're looking to tear down that condemned house over there and we need to know some information about-"

The door opened again and Coke-bottle eyed them.

"Tear it down?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Hutch stepped in, screwing on one of his most trustworthy smiles. "We believe it's posing a risk to the neighborhood, we just need to talk to someone with a watchful eye. Someone who could tell us about any squatter activity around the house. Say...in the past week."

Five minutes later they were seated on the woman's plastic covered couch. They'd been forced to take their shoes off (and Hutch wasn't sure at all that they would get them back on again on their own), then had been offered stale vanilla cookies and strong, lukewarm coffee.

After she'd finished serving them, Frieda, their hostess, sat primly on a similarly plastic covered easy chair, her eyes bouncing between the two men in her living room and the view out the wide window behind them.

She waited, like a vulture, for each man to take a bite of cookie and a sip of coffee, and the two cops obliged, Hutch in particular struggling not to gag. Starsky was lost in a vague memory of a movie that he couldn't quite place, but that he knew wasn't a good ending kind.

When they turned their attention back to Frieda she had begun to mime what they were doing, her left hand holding an imaginary cup of coffee by the saucer, her right hand dunking an imaginary vanilla cookie into the cup.

She ate the imaginary cookie and looked expectantly at the two men. With barely disguised disgust Starsky dunked the remainder of his cookie into the liquid and popped it into his mouth, trying to swallow the mushy mess whole without chewing it. When he glanced at Hutch to see how he was doing with the nauseating sweet he glared angrily at the horrified look he was getting.

"Eat your cookie, Hush.." Starsky demanded through the crumbly goo that filled his mouth.

Hutch looked at Starsky, then at Frieda whose existence seemed to balance on whether or not both her guests accepted her hospitality. Hutch decided to treat the situation like an old band aid and rip it off quickly, dunking the cookie, eating it and downing the rest of the coffee in a rush.

Hospital food tasted better, and the words "old lace" popped into Starsky's head before he remembered the rest of the movie title. His stomach immediately protested with a gurgle, but the minute both of them set their coffees down Freida came back to life. She stooped first to offer more, then settled back happily when her guests vehemently declined.

"How can I help you men?"

Starsky could feel the cookie rolling around angrily in his stomach and he glanced to Hutch to lead the way.

"As we said at the door, Ma'am, we're with the gas company and we're-"

"Going to tear down that eyesore."

"That's...that's our hope, but first we need to be certain we're not going to endanger anyone. We were wondering if you could tell us if there's been any vagrant activity there."

Shortly after Hutch had started speaking the older woman had reached for a thick note book sitting on the coffee table beside her chair. The pages were wrinkled with use, the book stuffed full of additional scraps of paper. Even polaroid photos.

"Recent...vagrant activity." Starsky hastened to add, feeling a good deal of the energy he'd thought he had leaving him in a rush.

Frieda had been preparing to open the book at the beginning but Starsky's caveat changed her mind and she started at the back of the book, carefully paging through with delicate fingers.

"Which day?"

"Uh...how...how about today?" Hutch asked.

The old woman turned back a few pages, scrolled her fingertip down the sheet and began to recite, "0200 hours, all houses clear. 0205 hours, all houses clear. 0210 hours, all houses-"

"Uh um..I'm sorry, pardon me and...forgive my partner for his lack of specificity…c-could we start at..say 2pm-uh 1400 hours, today." Starsky delicately requested, not missing the jolt Hutch gave at his use of a five-dollar word.

The look they were given reminded Starsky of a nun that had once hated him on a molecular level when he was a kid and he felt a familiar chill run down his back again. Hutch flashed him a concerned look but Starsky waved him off. It had to have been the drugs bringing so many waking nightmares to his mind.

"1400 hours, all houses cle-"

Hutch cleared his throat. "Terribly sorry for the interruption, and bless you Frieda for your kindness, but you can of course, go past the bits where nothing happens. We're looking for...um."

"Anything unusual." Starsky offered.

Frieda blinked at them behind glasses that were so thick they defied gravity by not sliding down her nose every time her head tilted, then turned her eyes to the page and scrolled down through the input, as if she hadn't been the one to write it, and couldn't simply remember, off hand, the one interesting thing to have disrupted her day.

They were left sitting in the dim light of the unlit living room for so long, Starsky was starting to think another neighbor visit might be a good idea.

"1509 hours, tall man with broken hand in tan slacks, and camo green blazer, balding, seen entering yard of Abrams house." Frieda read mechanically, then continued to drag her finger down the page, flipping to the next and reading on with the slow efficiency of a computer.

"1734 hours, police cruiser T-679 on unusual patrol, checking houses. All clear."

Starsky and Hutch exchanged a glance.

"That was only a few hours ago. Maybe he's still-" Hutch started, then was interrupted.

"1824, tall dark haired man leaves house with bandaged hand, wearing blue jeans flannel shirt and woman's wig, heading east."

"East...east. What's east of here?" Starsky muttered, struggling to remember the layout of a town that he'd only spent an hour in, and most of that hour hopelessly lost.

"1830 hours, Abrams boy leaves house, wearing woman's wig, blue jeans and white t-shirt."

"Abrams… I-I'm sorry, Frieda." Hutch began.

"1845 hours, parole car passing by-"

"Frieda, could you...could you go back, please."

Frieda stopped, still bent over the page, lifting her head enough to eye the men.

"Abrams boy?" Hutch asked, and watched fascinated as the woman paged back through her book.

The finger traveled down the page and she reported, "Arrived three days ago, 1900 hours."

"He's been squatting in his own house for three days." Hutch said.

"And Rick Simon just happens to stumble across him?" Starsky said.

"And they leave together, heading east."

"Toward the police station." Frieda said, for the first time since they'd arrived adjusting the massive glasses on her face.

"How-"

"Nevermind that, Starsk…" Hutch said, feeling the pieces clicking into place. "Rick made that phone call then went back to get his brother."

Both men struggled to their feet with as much haste as they could manage, barely remembering to grab their shoes as they stumbled over thank you's and apologies.

Frieda remained seated, blinking at them in stiff silence, apparently having no problem at all with letting her guests see themselves out. They were most of the way across the street to the Buick when Luyu's beeper started to go off in Hutch's pocket.

"928. That's Arizona."

"Do you think it's Luyu?"

"Only one way to find out." Hutch said, sliding down into the passenger seat of the car that belonged to the woman in question. Once seated he pulled the laces out of his shoes and threw them at the floor of the car, before slipping the shoes on with reduced effort.

Starsky watched the process then did the same, panting until his feet were once again shod and he could lean back against the seat. Both men had to take a moment, bathed in sweat and suffering from the same new injury to the stomach.

"We're regular speed demons." Starsky muttered sardonically, then asked, "What do you wanna do?"

"Find a pay phone. We'll call this number, then go by the police station and…"

"What?"

Hutch had the pager in his hand, the read out turned toward him, blank. "I think the battery just died on this thing."

"What?" Starsky demanded, taking the device from his partner and giving it a few good whacks. It took a minute, but eventually the readout began to glow faintly again. Starsky handed it back triumphantly.

"Oh, that's real good, Starsk." Hutch muttered sarcastically.

"I can fix anything mechanical." Starsky boasted, then turned over the car engine.

"Pay phone."

"Comin' right up!"

*****

Luyu had asked the nurse to page her the moment the answering call came through. Her hope had been that, without calling, Hutch would recognize that the number was local and presume it to be her. Who else, other than Flagstaff PD or the Flagstaff hospital, would have her beeper number?

The problem was that AJ was getting worse every minute. His fever was spiking and the bleeding around the wound had continued. Unable to close it without resetting the bone, and unwilling to reset the bone without full surgical tools at her disposal, the longer she waited outside the minimalist treatment room the more she wondered if taking AJ out of that hallway had been the best idea.

And yet it was the Winslow medical staff that had parked him there in the first place, and since moving AJ, she hadn't heard a single call over the loud speaker for a missing patient. A missing prisoner, she reminded herself. A higher priority still that was being ignored.

The last person she expected to see, and recognize sauntering down the halls was AJ's brother Rick. Yet, the moment the nurse called her name over the speaker for a phone call, there he was. One hand was discolored and roughly bandaged, and he looked bizarre with more hair than she remembered him having, wearing clothing that neither matched his body size or personality.

He caught sight of her moving from the doorway to the nurse's desk and she made eye contact, waving him over as she picked up the phone.

"Luyu...we think Rick found Abrams. The two might be together, and he probably went back to the police station. Starsky and I are going to-"

"They're here."

"They? Who they?"

"Rick, AJ and a kid."

"Ok...ok. Get them to the back of the hospital lot. We'll be there in ten. How's AJ?"

Luyu met Rick's concerned gaze and quickly said the word, "Rough." before he was in earshot, then, "Hurry."

"Be careful." Hutch said on the other end, then hung up.

Luyu put down the phone then quietly said, "Come on." She grabbed for Rick's forearm, nodded to the kid standing just behind the tall PI, and lead them quickly to the treatment room.

Rick followed her willingly, immediately going to his brother's side and lifting the bloodstained shirt. Luyu scrambled to fill a plastic garbage bag with additional supplies, promising herself that she would save up and purchase enough to replace what she was taking twice over if need be to make it right. For the moment...for the moment she still felt like she was taking insane chances with lives that weren't hers to control. And yet…

"Robby, grab that end." Rick was saying, nodding to the kid from the head of the gurney. Both men pushed it out the door, following Luyu, the group moving in silent concert through the hallways.

An orderly noticed them but said nothing. A nurse stepped out of their way, and her gaze lingered on them as they passed but she, too, shook her head and went back to her medical chart. They were nearly to the kitchen and laundry area when Luyu heard the announcement she'd been waiting for. They'd finally noticed that AJ was missing.

"Is that what I think it is?" Rick asked, staring at the speaker repeating the message, and Luyu nodded before she jogged ahead and threw open the door to the laundry then, sixty feet later, the double doors that lead to the loading docks where the laundry trucks parked.

By the time the gurney had slid to a stop on the platform Luyu's sky blue Buick screeched to a halt four feet below.

Hutch and Starsky both pushed out of the vehicle, rushing to the group on the platform and helping them guide the unconscious blonde down and into the backseat of the car. Rick got in quickly, guiding his brother's head onto his lap and Luyu followed, sliding under AJ's feet.

Abrams seemed stunned at the sight of both Starsky and Hutch on their feet, very much alive, but he willingly slid into the front seat between the two, pointedly fastening the seatbelt provided for passengers in the middle.

None of them spoke until they were clear of the hospital and cruising through the darkness on the edge of town.

Starsky had pulled the car onto a path that would take them west when Hutch first spotted the cruiser parked right next to the 40 west sign.

"They're ready for us." He said simply and Starsky calmly turned the wheel and pulled the car onto a side street.

"Think Frieda called the cops?" Starsky asked.

"I thought she liked us."

Rick keyed up and fighting between a hyper-focus on his brother's every breath, and the rest of the problems facing them asked, "There a map in here?"

Luyu looked up from where she'd been putting minimal pressure on AJ's chest and pointed to the pocket in the seat in front of the older brother. "Arizona state map should be in there."

Rick grabbed for it, spreading the map open and squinting at it in the dark. "We can't go west, let's try east."

"What's the next big town?" Starsky asked, weaving through a grid of back streets.

"Uh…Holbrook."

"Holbrook?" Hutch asked, knowing the name sounded familiar. "Holbrook doesn't sound like it has a hospital."

"Do we have a choice?" Starsky asked, glancing in the rearview. There was no response from Luyu and one glance at Rick told him they didn't.

They had to hope Winslow cops were single minded, and wouldn't consider an escape in the opposite direction of the biggest city in the state.


	12. The Ride

There was a cruiser on US 40, half a mile after the entrance ramp, but it was faced west bound and the state cop inside didn't pay any attention to the blue Buick heading sedately toward the rising moon.

"How far?" Starsk asked, sounding more tired than he had a minute ago.

"30 miles." Rick said, then fed the map forward, tapping Robby's shoulder with it until the kid took it.

AJ had started to convulse. The twitches were random, before or after every other breath like he was struggling to get his diaphragm to operate right. "Why…?" Rick began, then held on to his brother as AJ's mouth opened, choking sounds coming out before he managed to take what sounded like a normal deep breath. "Why is he doin' that?"

"His lung.." Luyu said, digging into the plastic bag that was too big for what little it contained. She finally ripped it open, wishing instantly that they hadn't moved him from the gurney. Wishing she'd left him in the hospital. Even neglected in the hall he might have been better off than he was now. Shifting him from the gurney, down a 4-foot drop and into the car had jostled the loose edge of the broken rib, a rib she'd been pressing down on in the back of a bouncing car, and now…

"Hutch, I need light." Luyu called, trying to keep her voice even, struggling to stay calm. To Rick she said, "I need you to lift his left arm over his head and keep it there. He's going to struggle but I need him absolutely still..." Luyu's voice dropped into a choked whisper.

"Still, why still? What's wrong with him?"

The dome light popped on seconds before Luyu was going to ask for it again and several things happened at once.

From the front seat she heard Hutch shift, then mutter "Starsk...damn it." Starsky's quiet reply was even softer, but the car kept moving forward as if nothing had changed.

The second thing was the gasp of shock that came from both Luyu and Rick. The veins on AJs neck had gone from barely there to a vibrant blue that was visibly pulsing as he struggled to breathe. Luyu braced herself against the backs of the seats and bent so that she could press her ear to AJ's chest. She went from the left side to the right side several times, in a span of seconds, before she shook her head.

Luyu fussed with the few things she'd been able to grab from the exam room, her hands shaking, absolutely terrified at attempting what she had to attempt in the back of a moving car, speeding toward a town that might not have a hospital that could fix the problems she was about to cause. She was a doctor yes, but she wasn't a trauma surgeon. The second doctorate she was earning was in psychology for cripes' sake.

A stack of clean towels, a bottle of iodine, a thin line of tubing, the single syringe and needle she'd found, the bore too small for the task at hand and a butterfly clamp. That was all she had. The needle wouldn't do and the knife she had, nothing more than a folding blade, wasn't going to be sharp enough or precise enough to make a clean, deep cut...

And AJ was lying against his brother gasping for air while she debated.

"Lady, help him!" Rick barked, too terrified to think straight. He grabbed Luyu's arm and briefly earned the fierce, full attention of Hutch the moment Luyu winced.

"I ca-...I ca-." Luyu tried, her vision swimming.

Then Hutch's attention was back on his partner as the car meandered out of their lane.

"Starsk...Starsky!"

Luyu felt herself losing control. Dave's skull was rolling strangely in her peripheral vision, Hutch was lurching to grab the steering wheel and the Buick was losing speed.

"Abrams, see if you can get your foot on the clutch, put the car in neutral."

"I can drive." Abrams insisted.

"We may need you to, in a minute. We gotta get off the road, first."

"He's dyin'." Rick muttered, his hand still clutching Luyu's arm hard enough to bruise.

AJ was fast becoming bluer than the paint job on the car and Luyu's hands were shaking so bad she couldn't move.

She watched Hutch raise himself above the line of the back seat, felt his powerful hands on hers and heard him quietly tell Rick to let her arm go.

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm gonna help ya. We're going to do this together and he's gonna be fine." Hutch said. "Right, Rick? Your brother, he's going to be fine."

Rick blinked, realized slowly where he'd gone in the past few minutes and pulled himself back. Damn it, he knew better, he told himself, he shouldn't be panicking like this. He should be the one leading the metaphoric charge here, yet, he was terrified that AJ would never draw another breath.

"AJ's gonna be fine. We gotta help him." Rick repeated, his voice dull, barely keeping the panic at bay. He forced himself to do something and took the knife that had been scattered with the other contents of the trash bag, and sliced AJ's shirt open.

He felt rage at the mural of bruises that warped his skin, but that wouldn't save AJ either.

"Iodine." Luyu said, after several deep breaths, shame flushing her face red, tears waiting to fall past the sweat that was now soaking her skin.

"Ok," Hutch said, softly. "Ok." He said again his attention returning to his partner and the blood pooling against the plastic seats.

"Iodine? What does iodine mean?" Rick asked, struggling to keep his voice as calm and fluid as Hutch's had been.

Luyu dragged in a hard breath and picked up a towel and the small glass bottle of iodine. "Swab his chest, up here." She said, pointing at a spot just below AJ's collarbone.

The car was rolling still, slowly, the tires popping against the gravel on the side of the road. It had taken turning the dome light on for Hutch to notice the swath of blood covering Starsky's pant leg and slicking the surface of the front seat. At first he wasn't sure where it had come from, Abrams or his partner, but Starsky's response to that much crimson had been so muted and lackadaisical, Hutch had felt panic fill his throat with bile.

Getting the car stopped had been the first problem. The second problem amounted to a slow, rolling version of a Chinese fire drill. With Abrams holding onto the wheel Hutch stepped out of his side of the car, letting the sturdy support of the door and the forward momentum of the vehicle get him fully to his feet.

His side had already begun to feel raw. The run from the car to the truck bay that had probably ripped open his partner's leg hadn't done him any favors either. He was bleeding but nowhere near as badly as the brunette. Hutch stayed in a crouch that favored the wound, circling around the trunk, before picking up speed and opening the driver's side door. He perched on the seat, drew his legs into the foot-well and slowly brought the Buick to a halt, set the parking brake and helped Abrams move Starsky into the middle part of the seat.

From there it was a case of removing enough clothing to make a tight compress for Starsky's wound but still maintain warmth in the sudden desert cool. The brunette did his part, staying miraculously coherent through the whole thing, only occasionally responding to the pressure on his leg.

Behind where Hutch and Abrams were bent, working on Starsky, Rick and Luyu were similarly focused. Rick had AJ's arms tightly held in his elbows and Luyu had found a way to get at the right angle with the needle without risking having her arm kicked by a stray leg. The bore wasn't big enough but it might be long enough, and it had to be better than nothing.

The car was eerily quiet but for labored breathing, strained grunts and groans, the occasional mumble either coherent or not. Except for that and the sweep of vehicles passing them by, the desert around them held its breath.

"Luyu.." Hutch ventured, tying the compress around his partner's thigh, teeth gritted against the strain it put on the abused muscles in his left arm.

"Almost." Her voice came back to him softly, focused, and once more in control.

"Alright kid-"

"Robby." Abrams insisted, his voice holding a note of mature determination that brought the thoughts racing through Hutch's head to a screeching halt for a few seconds.

"Robby." Hutch said, meeting Abrams' eyes before he continued, "...come around here to the driver's side. When I say, pull her out slow and easy. Watch the speed limits and...try to look like you've got a license."

Abrams moved without a word, backing out of the passenger side and switching spots with Hutch. The doors were closed, the car turned back on and the dome light just a little brighter with the added power from the engine before Luyu moved the needle and heard a faint, short lived whistle of air.

"Damn it." She said, tears finally falling. She moved the needle a tenth of an inch, then pushed it in a little deeper and the whistle increased prompting a strangled cough and a deeper breath out of AJ. She shook her head but knew it was as good as it was going to get. The needle wasn't long enough or wide enough to do all that the procedure was supposed to do. "It's a temporary fix but it's not gonna last." Luyu said, her hands working efficiently despite the heartbreak in her words forcing her voice to crack.

The moment she'd stabilized the needle she shouted, "Drive, come on, drive!"

The car spit gravel briefly then caught on the asphalt and Robby rocked them roughly through the first three gears.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, knowing there would only be more to replace them, Luyu stared at AJs face, noting an achingly slow improvement to his color. She put a shaking hand on Rick's shoulder, trying not to see the blood stains marring her skin, and said, "You have to keep him….calm." She fought a sob, swallowed hard and continued, "Each breath has to be slow, or even this won't do him any good. Ok?"

Rick grit his teeth and acknowledged her advice with his eyes alone before he bent his head over his brother and started mumbling to him.

Luyu braced both hands on the seat backs and closed her face for a moment, fighting to control her own lungs, the fear, the regret, all the emotions she didn't have time for. Then she carefully moved around the body sprawled in the back seat and sank her fingers into the damp curls of her second patient.

Starsky responded immediately, his hand rising, finding hers, squeezing her fingertips lightly. "S'okay." He mumbled tiredly, "S'okay, snowflake."

Luyu forced the back of her hand against her trembling lips and looked to Hutch. He was fighting, she could see it in the unguarded depths of his eyes, in the redness already gathering in his cheeks, under his nose, at his eyelids.

He was bleeding too, not as much, but enough to soak through his shirt. Luyu stared at the dark spot, looked down helplessly at the pile of useless junk that she had been limited to in the hospital and wanted to know why. She wanted to know why a town had become so deadly for anyone that hadn't been born in it. She wanted to know why every wound inflicted on every man in that car could have been intentionally caused by another human being.

"Why?" She breathed, blood covered fingers curling in toward her palms like claws. "I want to know why?"

Hutch didn't respond, his eyes focused on hers, but his head somewhere else. Starsky had stopped mumbling, but his hand was still clasping hers, his fingers moving just enough to reassure her that he was still awake. Still hanging on.

The person who spoke was Rick. His voice was choked with the same emotions that had slicked his face and he was curled over his brother's head like he was afraid the roof might collapse in on them at any moment. Rick's good hand was hovering over AJ's pulse, the other one resting against the top of his head.

"When you live with the same people...love the same guys, protect 'em, fight with 'em, drink with 'em. When that's your whole world you...you learn to see the universe as black and white. Good and bad. Cause if you start to think about the guy you're aiming at as a human being.." Rick stopped talking, his face pinched closed for a moment and grit his teeth hard, struggling until tears rolled out anew. He drew in a hard breath and said, "You can't pull the trigger anymore." His eyes came up, latching onto Luyu's.

She saw a broken little boy, cowering in a closet for a split second before Rick looked away.

"If you can't pull the trigger, you might let down one of those guys that you love. And if you let them down...that's your whole world gone...collapsed. You get kicked out on your ass and it takes a long time to figure out that...the world is bigger than all that."

"Some people don't figure that out at all." A different voice said. A voice that had been almost entirely silent behind the wheel.

Starsky sighed under her hand, his thumb moving to stroke against her skin. "Us against them." He said, gaining a brief surprised glance from the other veteran in the car.

"That's the real motivation in a fight." Rick said, nodding. "When it gets down to the...the fear and the rage and the adrenaline and...your mind don't function anymore. You don't throw yourself on a landmine to preserve truth, honesty and the American way."

"...s'ta save your best buddy." Starsky agreed and his other hand went out, catching Hutch's arm, resting there.

Luyu felt selfish anger rising, threatening to spill past the wiser part of her mind telling her she was out of her depth in the conversation. Psychologically, she knew they were right. Motivation hadn't changed at its most basic level since the much argued dawn of time.

But the part of her that had participated actively in expanding the role of women in the workplace, of minorities in fields of science and medicine, of the presence of the poor as a constituency in politics...the part of her that had steadfastly believed that knowledge, reason and compassion would lead the way to an end to war...to a peaceful family of humanity, wanted to puke in response to the words the men had spoken.

She wanted to deny that it was true, she wanted to debunk that it was accepted fact and force each of those men...men she deeply respected, and some that she dearly loved, to deny it with her.

Then she thought about Sam Waggoner and Dan Waggoner. And she hated them. Reviled them for the pain they had inflicted on her version of "us".

Hutch had been right, she realized, glancing up to find his blue eyes focused on hers. "Revenge is never just revenge. It's...it's self-preservation, too. It's...making it okay to hate the thing that's hurting you."

A moment later the word was there at the edge of her throat and she said, "Equilibrium."

It was the silence in the car that said the most, each of the men lingering on that word and recognizing its importance. And they may have been wrong. Given the levels of shock overwhelming each of them, it was the equivalent of solving the world's problems while drunk and high at the same time. But as exhaustion settled over her limbs in the final ten miles before the Buick nearly sailed past the exit for Holbrook, Luyu felt as though they...the six of them, had just found the answer to the meaning of life.

Yet, when the Buick rolled quietly through the town, heading toward the small hospital like someone in the car, the driver, knew precisely where he was going…

When the car pulled under the awning and the driver threw on the emergency brake then ran into the hospital to get help, the rest of the passengers moving only sluggishly in comparison…

When first AJ, then Starsky, then Hutch, then Rick had disappeared into the only four examination rooms in the ER to be treated…

Never in that time did Luyu feel she could or should share with anyone what had been said and done in that car. It wasn't a secret, but at the same time she knew it wasn't something anyone else would ever understand.

A half-hour after they'd arrived Luyu felt like she was waking from a vivid dream. She straightened, her head came up and she saw the hospital waiting room with crisp clarity that she hadn't had before. She became aware of the blood on her, of a wet towel sitting in a pile on the seat beside her, a cup of coffee still steaming a little on the table at her elbow.

She cleaned her hands on the towel, focused on the sensation of the rough cloth passing over every finger, sipped from the cup of coffee and stood, her knees and legs stiff like she'd run a mile without stretching. She searched the room and found Robby in the corner, on a pay phone, head ducked down, engrossed in the conversation.

The receptionist desk was empty, most of the staff off-duty, or focused on the repair of the four men that had been admitted. Luyu went to the first of the exam rooms, peering around the thick, folding curtain that served as a door. The room was empty, the bed streaked with a little bit of blood. The shirt and pants that AJ had been wearing still lay on the exam bed where they'd been cut away from his body.

Luyu found a pair of exam gloves and put them on, bent to pick up the discarded articles of clothing and tucked them into a plastic bag that she stuck by the trash can.

The next room had an impatient Rick in it, his eyes focused on the process of resetting the bones in his fingers. There would be no cast, primarily because of the gash on that same part of the hand, and because the pinkey and ring finger could usually heal well enough with just a brace. Rick hadn't spotted her, and Luyu found she preferred it that way, moving on to the next room.

Here the partitioning curtain had been drawn back and Luyu felt her feet drag to a halt.

Hutch lay, shirtless and stretched out on the exam bed, eyes closed. The gunshot wound on his side had been re-stitched and most of the minor scratches on his face had healed. She remembered his having a head injury when he'd first been admitted to Flagstaff Memorial, but she couldn't see the scab anymore, likely hidden under his hair.

The bruising that had almost completely covered his left arm and side was fading into yellows and browns, the biggest contusion she had seen yet in her years as a physician. The last of its kind that she ever wanted to see, for the rest of her life.

Starsky sat in a well padded chair, inches from the side of Hutch's bed, his head propped against it, supported by a pillow. Starsky's repaired leg, now swathed in an overkill of bandages that were visible under his pants, was elevated on the seat of a second chair, his shoulder re-bandaged and settled in a cloth sling. Buried in the sweat dampened curls, probably resting near the head injury that had almost permanently cost Starsky his eyesight, was Hutch's hand.

Anyone who knew them would have no doubt that both men were perfectly at peace, sound asleep.

A male voice was cleared behind her and Luyu would have startled if she hadn't been as tired as she was. Instead she turned, smiled wanly at the doctor that had been treating Starsky and Hutch and tried to move out of his path. Except the man stayed in the doorway, observing her.

"That's a lot of hurt in there." He said and Luyu nodded. "What happened?"

"A bus crash." She said softly, avoiding the details that were too numerous and sordid to be believed.

"The GSWs?"

Luyu knew why he was asking, but she didn't respond. Her arms wrapped around her torso and she fought the sudden onslaught of tears once more making an appearance.

The doctor behind her sighed. "They've obviously already been treated once before, I suppose I needn't report it immediately."

"The patient with the collapsed lung…" Ready to change the subject, Luyu bit her lip, feeling like she was swimming in the salt water filling her eyes. "His condition?" She asked, resorting to the clinical speak that was supposed to protect doctor's from caring too much about their patients.

"Touchy, but stable for the moment." The doctor said. He watched as Luyu turned slightly, just enough to show him one chocolate brown eye. Just enough to communicate that she wasn't slighting him by not facing him.

"Thank you," She said, then went to the unoccupied side of the blonde cop, arms unfolding and gently working the blanket over his chest.

"We're working on rooms for all of them. They'll...have to double up."

Luyu listened to the hesitant silence then turned and faced the doctor with a quizzical look.

"I just...wanted to make sure that I wasn't putting mortal enemies together. You know...Montague's and Capulet's."

Luyu felt it ripple through her body like a bolt of lightning, from the sky to the ground and back again via her spine.

Not just revenge.

Equilibrium.

Take care of their own.

Holbrook.

That was why Holbrook had been a familiar name. The woman who had owned the car, the car that Robby Abrams ran into at age 14 while under the influence, lived in this town. She had been the grandmother of the 14-year-old girl that Robby loved. That Robby was sent to jail for killing.

The same girl who was the daughter and niece of the two men responsible for the bus accident, for Hutch and Starsky ending up on the highway bleeding out in a stolen jeep, for Rick and AJ Simon responding to a distress call and becoming embroiled in the mess that nearly ended in tragedy.

Romeo and Juliet.

Abrams and Waggoner.

And an old woman who might have the answers. An old woman whose address Luyu still had in her pocket.


	13. The Peace Conference

Starsky and Rick, then Rick and Hutch, and finally Starsky and Hutch spent the night in a strange, impromptu rotatory watch at the hospital. Starsky and Hutch had been placed together in a room and for a while Rick had been with them, shooed out of the ICU where his presence lingering over his brother's bed had apparently been obtrusive.

While Starsky was awake the two watched muted late night TV until the screen went gray, then talked until Hutch woke. The conversation shifted toward the blonde partner and Starsky drifted off managing a few hours sleep. When Rick couldn't fight the siren song, aided by painkillers and water instead of coffee, Hutch found he couldn't sleep anymore and made his way out of bed.

He vaguely remembered Luyu telling him that the hospital usually offered reduced price rooms at a local motel for family members of patients. The doctor that had treated two of the four men seemed content to know only that Luyu had come with the men, and was their only means of transportation before he had one of the orderlies call the motel.

Luyu and Robby had left just before midnight, and while Hutch was grateful for the hospitality and the knowledge that the woman he deeply cared about would get a decent night's sleep, she'd also been forced to take on yet another responsibility that wasn't her own.

The list of personal and professional failings had been piling up since the Bay City bus went off the road, and the topping on the cake was his body continuing to let him down.

The guilt and no small amount of worry was weighing on him when Hutch re-entered their room and found Starsky sitting on the edge of his bed, feet dangling, contemplating the floor.

Wordlessly Hutch pulled the wheelchair that had been set in their room over to Starsky's bed, helped his partner ease into it with minimal effort, and they went for a walk, traveling first to the ICU, then through the halls of the hospital.

An hour later, as the sun began to rise, Rick found them in a corner of the cafeteria, blearily staring at the morning hustle behind the long serving counter. Rick noticed the plastic cups of coffee and made a drinking motion at Hutch who nodded at a steaming pot near the end of the serving line.  
Rick grabbed himself a cup and took the seat that Hutch had slid out for him, groaning softly into his first sip of the day.

"How's your brother?" Starsky asked.

"Doc says he's improving." Rick said, staring at the surface of the coffee. "Still worried about the lung. I uh…" Rick sat back in the seat and stared at the binding around his fingers, the bruising that covered his hand, the crack in the linoleum on the table. He cleared his throat. "I flipped out...back there-"

"Don't worry about it." Hutch said, cutting him off.

Rick looked up, meeting Hutch's eyes, then glancing to Starsky. "I appreciate your attitude but I think it's something I gotta worry about. I've known a lot of guys that couldn't hack civilian life after they came back...really thought I was somehow...immune to it. I didn't realize til last night that what I picked up over there was so...ingrained."

"It's easy to ignore until it's staring you in the face." Hutch said quietly.

Rick took a sip of the coffee, baring his teeth at the taste, yet satisfied by the heat as it sank down his throat. He leaned forward again, his elbows against the tabletop, and shook his head.  
"I talked AJ into this job because I wanted to make a good impression. Maybe pick up a little consulting work from the Bay City PD. Get some good references." Rick glanced up, his face flushing pink on his cheekbones. "Instead I get us into almost deeper trouble than we got the two of you out of and...nearly got AJ killed in the process."

Neither of the cops sitting at the table responded, knowing it wasn't their job to forgive Rick or make him feel better.

"I made...I made things worse for the two of you I think. That cop? Sam Waggoner?"

Both detectives gave a brief nod, each lost in their own reactions to the name. Starsky could suddenly feel Sam's arm around his throat trying to choke him to death, Danny's blood on his hands. Hutch instantly remembered the list he had foolishly insisted on giving Rick, sending the PI and his brother straight into hell with a sign that said, "Kick me."

"I think...I think I killed him."

It was, by far, the last thing either cop expected to hear. They exchanged a surprised glance before Hutch asked, "What happened?"

Before Rick could respond Hutch's head tilted up, their only warning before a small parade of smiling, maternal women, wearing pale yellow smocks and hairnets came out from behind the serving counter. Each carried a tray of steaming eggs, sizzling bacon, bowls of cut mango and pineapple chunks, fresh biscuits, orange juice and toast.

The ladies delivered the food, some giving lingering lascivious looks while the head cook oversaw the delivery with arms crossed. She waited until each of her workers had returned behind the counter and each of the men had taken an experimental bite of some of the food before she turned, gave a nod and started barking more orders. The nod was greeted with a muted cheer and a burst of giggles.  
It was perhaps the most bizarre event yet for each of the three men, and certainly at the top of their list of hospital experiences.

The babbling in the kitchen dropped to a low roar and the men tucked into their food at a leisurely pace, watching the room begin to fill with patients, doctors, nurses and visitors over the course of a slow hour. None of whom needed to hear the topic of conversation that they had been forced to abandon.

Luyu found them as they were cleaning up their trays. There was an underlying sense of confidence to her step as she slipped behind the handles of Starsky's wheelchair, collecting her men and getting them back into the room they'd been assigned to.

They got Starsky into bed and he immediately drifted off, warm, tired and full of food. Hutch took a long shower in the small bathroom down the hall and Luyu took advantage, stealing the clothes he'd been wearing and making use of the hospital laundry services.

Hutch wasn't pleased with the hospital gown he was once again forced into but the promise of clean, dry clothes and a warm bed against tired muscles soothed the sting.

Rick had returned to ICU to stay with his brother during the waking hours and the conversation that had been averted settled into the back of his mind.

The two Bay City detectives had been asleep for a few hours when a captain of detectives and a sheriff pulled up together outside the hospital. They stood in the parking lot for a few minutes talking quietly and surveying the gathering of vehicles and the small trickle of people going in and out.

Fifteen minutes after entering the hospital they were given directions to the room shared by two men from southern California.

Five minutes later they were standing in the doorway of the hospital room, the captain of detectives peering into the darkened space like a man preparing to walk into a morgue.

The captain asked for a few moments alone, then stepped into the room and jolted a little when he realized there was a third presence. Sitting just inside the door with pad and pencil in hand was the guardian angel that had been watching over the two men diligently from the start.

Luyu glanced up, then blinked in surprise at seeing Captain Dobey hovering hesitantly by the door. She put her notes down and stood, accepting the warm handshake the man offered.

"How long have they been asleep?" Dobey asked softly, knowing his men. Knowing their nature.

"Since eight." Luyu whispered back, and she watched as the mountain of a man tiptoed further into the room and stood in the space between the two beds.

Both men were pale, drawn, they'd lost weight in the past few days and the strain of constant adrenaline had made their skin seem tissue paper thin. The myriad of compounded injuries could be overwhelming at first glance and Luyu watched the captain, knowing how he must have been feeling, and yet unable to guess what was going through his mind.

He stood, hidden by shadow, his profile defined by the light coming from behind the drawn shades of the window at the other end of the room, his head slightly bowed. Luyu felt her heart pang when she saw the man put a hand on the edge of each of the beds for just a moment, then cross himself and quietly return to the door.

She followed him into the hall and blinked in surprise at the Winslow acting sheriff squirming uncomfortably by a cart stacked with unused bedpans. She didn't know the man, but the uniform he was slumping in, festooned with his former rank and the badges of his new office, was easy to identify.

In the blinding light of the hallway Dobey introduced Luyu and Sheriff Reuben to one another.

"How are they?"

"Alive." Luyu nodded. "Tired. All four have been through a lot."

"Rick and AJ Simon. They're here?" Reuben asked, practically quaking in his eagerness.

Luyu eyed the man, choosing not to respond just yet.

"Unfortunately, I'm going to need all four of them awake to answer some questions as quickly as possible." Dobey said, the sensitive man she'd seen in their room seconds before, disappearing behind the bluster of a police captain under too much pressure.

"It's inadvisable, but I can wake Ken and Dave. AJ Simon is in ICU. The injuries he sustained under Sheriff Reuben's care were severe." Luyu didn't point with her finger, just her eyes, but she wanted to pin the shaky sheriff to the wall with the accusation. She'd been responsible, if briefly, for cleaning up the mess that they had made of the young man's chest and she was still fuming because of it. "And I don't know that Rick Simon should be in the same room with anyone representing Winslow law."

Something almost like a smile came to the big man's face but he grunted, and the expression he'd almost had turned into a stern frown. "We're all going to have to learn to play nice. We've got twenty missing persons out."

"Twenty!?" Luyu's eyes went wide, searching the sheriff's face first. The man had obviously been made aware of it, but just recently, and he tucked his chin to his chest not meeting her gaze.

Dobey watched the two react then tapped the edge of the pad of paper in Luyu's hand. "We'll need to make use of that. And I'd rather only go over all of this once. I'll be responsible for waking my men, if you don't mind finding Rick Simon, getting him down here."

Luyu didn't like it, but she nodded and headed down the hallway. She couldn't help but feel like she was leaving a ticking bomb standing in the middle of the floor, disguised as an acting sheriff.

When she found Rick he was drooling into a pillow, his feet propped on the window sill by his brother's bed. The man couldn't have managed any more sleep than either of the two cops but he woke quickly...almost too quickly, and listened with a stunned expression to the latest development. Luyu chose to sneak in the information about the acting sheriff when Rick seemed the most distracted and was grateful that they had both left the ICU before it caught up with him.

"Wait a minute. Did you say Reuben is with him?"

Luyu cleared her throat and said, "Uh, yes, but he's not here to arrest anyone…"

"He will be, if he's conscious once I'm through with him." Rick muttered pulling the stairwell door open for her and waiting to follow her down the stairs. Luyu stopped in the stairwell, her simple act pulling Rick back.

The door closed behind them and they stood in the narrow tube of concrete, Rick looking at her impatiently.

"How much do you know? About Abrams and why he was sent away in the first place?"

"Next to nothing. Seems Abrams is the one name you don't mention in Winslow. Why?" Rick asked.

Luyu lifted a finger and jabbed it toward Rick like he'd casually uttered the million dollar answer. "When you were all first admitted here, the doctor wanted to know who could be put in a room with who. Just the fact that we were coming from Winslow made him cautious. As if...warring parties were always coming out of that town looking as beat up as we did. He said something about, Montague's and Capulet's. I visited someone this morning that shed a little more light on it, but I think we need to keep Abrams to ourselves. We can't let anyone know where he is until we know Reuben can be trusted."

"I don't trust Reuben." Rick said, without hesitation.

"That's one vote against, then." Luyu said, then headed down the stairs.

Getting the group settled and comfortable took another twenty minutes, and in that time their actual nurse had been in and out. Luyu had brought back Hutch's cleaned clothes and coerced Starsky into borrowed clothes. Rick had found a solid corner to back himself into and sat with his feet propped up, trying to keep his arms crossed over his chest, despite the wrapping on his hand.

Dobey made sure everyone in the room knew who everyone else was then said, "We're going to start at the beginning. Almost a week ago I sent two of my detectives to Winslow, Arizona with twenty juveniles in their charge. Those juveniles were to be delivered to the Winslow Police Department, and eventually, taken into the care of five different facilities around the state. The bus they were driving never made it. And now it's disappeared."

"What!?" Starsky demanded, his voice the loudest among the protests that burst into the room.

Hutch was next, just as insistent. "Captain, that bus was dug in, there's no way they could've lifted it out of that canyon without a..a crane or a.."

"Maybe you've just got the wrong canyon." Rick added under the tumult. The comment immediately caught Dobey's attention and he put up a hand.

"Say that again."

"There's hundreds of little canyons all along route 40. Where'd you get your information? I mean...who told you where to look?"

The accusation wasn't in the least bit veiled and Reuben immediately balked but Dobey put up another hand.

"The information I received came from Sheriff Reuben's office, but it did not come directly from Reuben." Dobey said. The sheriff had started to his feet his mouth hanging open, but he settled back again. "I had the feeling it was second hand information anyway, and now I know for sure. That leads us back to the main issue."

"Ten of those kids are dead, Captain." Hutch said, eyeing the others in the room. Some knew about it, most didn't. Hutch hadn't expected to be the one to bring the information to light and felt it settle solidly in his gut, an inescapable fact now. "Killed in the crash."

"A crash that Sam Waggoner caused by shooting out the tires of the bus." Starsky added, matter-of-factly, redirecting the guilt before his partner could accept all of it.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Dan Waggoner has been sheriff of Navajo county for years and his brother has served diligently on the force for-"

"You wanna run that by me again?" Starsky jumped in, "Just one more time, how many years Dan Waggoner, the man who shot my partner in cold blood, how many years was he on the force? At which point in his sheriff's training was he taught to shoot first and not ask questions ever?"

Reuben flushed red, his jaw tightening, "Five years. And he served every one of those diligently-"

"You know that's the second time you've used that word in less than a minute, makes it sound like you haven't got any others...tell us…" Hutch put up his own hands, his face straining against the movement, forestalling Dobey who was preparing to weigh in. "No, go ahead and tell us...what else do you actually know about Dan Waggoner?"

Reuben was suddenly the focus of every eye in the room and had become aware of the fact that he had very few allies. He straightened his back, took in a breath and said, "The Waggoner family has been in Winslow since before the turn of the century. Dan's father served on the force, his grandfather-"

"You can sit there and chat about his father, and his grandfather and his great grandma's aunt Betty, but you don't know one damned thing about the man himself." Rick jumped in. "Dan Waggoner, according to these guys, tried to commit cold blooded murder, and it sounds like it had more to do with a cover up than anything else. Judging by the conversation Sam and AJ had, that's all Sam Waggoner was after too...he wanted to know-"

"That's not true!" Reuben shouted.

"-how deep the shit was before he put on his waders. It's absolutely the truth!" Rick stared around the room and angrily added, "And my brother paid for it."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves gentlemen." Dobey interrupted, his voice bringing the shouting to a stall. "Starsky, Hutch. What happened to the bus?"


	14. The Peace Conference Part II

Luyu sat quietly behind the staggered circle of men, listening to the two Bay City detectives as they spoke. She heard about the card game Starsky had played with some of the kids in the back of the bus. Kids that were now missing or dead.

She heard about the long dark road, sudden pops in the night, the bus going out of control and Hutch's desperate attempt at saving his partner's life at the risk of his own.

Their voices grew more tired as they talked about picking up the pieces, Hutch finding Starsky, realizing what the impact of a boulder to his head had done, pulling themselves together and starting the process toward recovery, only to become targets once again.

Sam demanding that Starsky represent all of Bay City PD, unarmed and blind, under the beam of a flashlight.

Hutch planning a mad escape, ignoring a dislocated and badly bruised arm, and driving a torn up bus through the canyon bottom and over a waterfall.

The following morning when their hope for rescue was dashed by the return of Sam, Chuck and Dan Waggoner.

For anyone who had seen the partnership in action before, or been present to hear or read about it later, the situations and resolutions seemed at the very least, plausible.

For Rick Simon and Sheriff Reuben, the simple nods that each story got from Luyu Samara and Captain Dobey were astonishing.

"I aimed at where I thought dead center would be and...emptied my second clip." Starsky said, his voice whittled down to a rough whisper that could have been explained by his physical condition, though most in the room knew better.

"Did you know the sheriff was dead at that time?" Dobey asked.

"Sam shouted his brother's name and Chuck said...his uncle was dead." Starsky smoothed out the blanket over his legs with shaking hands, and shifted on the bed with a wince, staring at the blanket for a long moment before he forced himself to meet the bloodshot eyes of his superior. He knew he would have to say it all again, hear it all again, live it all again when IA stepped in. The only thing this impromptu retelling would give him was the backing of his captain.

"And in your mind it was self-defense." Dobey prompted.

"He'd threatened to kill me, and he'd already shot Hutch-"

"Supposedly.."

"Excuse me?" Starsky's eyes flashed from the dull, tired gray they'd been an instant ago to clear, sharp, ice-blue.

Reuben scanned the room, hostile eyes coming from every face but Dobey's.

"I mean...did I understand something wrong? Your detective was blind at the time. He operated purely on assumptions based on what he was hearing. He heard what sounded like the sheriff's gun. He heard his partner's gun."

"And then I heard your beloved sheriff tell me my partner was dead, and I was going to join him shortly." Starsky said, already losing steam. He leaned back against the bed he was grateful to still be in, and glanced toward his partner.

"And how do we know that isn't embellishment?" Reuben asked, shaking his head, bewildered. "I get that the rest of you are all on the same team here, but this...sounds like a John Wayne movie. You're taking the upstanding, unquestionable character of a leader of my community and dragging it through the-"

"Mud?" Rick guessed, smirking softly from his corner.

"Sewer!" Reuben snapped. "We've just heard this man admit to killing my boss and instead of yanking him in and locking him up, we're still discussing the character of the man who is now murdered...unable to defend himself or his actions."

"That's why I'm here, Reuben. To get the whole story." Dobey barked. "And so far I haven't even heard all of one side of it."

"Why do I get the feeling we're not even going to make it my side?"

"You wanna go next?" Rick asked, "Go next."

Luyu watched Rick and the acting sheriff stare each other down, the former getting far more enjoyment out of the discomfort the stare-down caused, than the latter.

"There's not much more to tell.." Starsky said, his eyes dancing between the two still silently hating each other. "Hutch and I made it outta the canyon, got picked up by these two guys, Rick and AJ, and they brought us to Flagstaff Memorial."

"How did you two end up back in Winslow?"

Luyu quietly raised a hand and cleared her throat. "I...uh...helped."

Dobey smirked a tiny bit then switched his focus to the only physician in the room.

Luyu blinked, then scrambled to remember how her participation had started. "Well I...I was on duty when the guys came in. Recognized them, went to talk to Rick who had decided to stay with them at least until he heard something about their conditions. A few days later he was gone with his brother, headed back to Winslow. Hutch was awake and we talked and he expressed his concern about the two, especially in light of something-"

"The list." Hutch said, nodding. His cheeks flamed a little but he glanced up, meeting Dobey's eyes squarely. "It was a stupid thing to do, Captain. I...I was concerned about the juveniles still in my care, and after Rick convinced me that he had the department's blessing to return to Winslow I gave him a list of names. Of people that I was hoping he would avoid."

"Wouldn't have gone in without it." Rick cut in quietly, surprising Hutch with what sounded suspiciously like a vote of confidence.

"Hold on a minute. Hutch...what exactly was on that list?" Dobey asked.

"Names. The names I could remember of the people that seemed to be involved. Sam Waggoner, Chuck Waggoner, Abrams, some of the other kids that I could remember."

"Looked an awful lot like a hit list when we got it." Reuben interrupted again.

"You have the list?" Dobey asked, cutting off any other responses.

"It was one of the first things I took of this joker and his brother when the two rolled into town in a stolen police jeep." Reuben said, flicking a finger toward Rick's corner.

"You did what!?" Dobey barked, looking from his men to Rick Simon. It took Reuben a second to realize that it wasn't his actions, but the bit about the stolen police jeep that had enraged the captain.

"That's why we left the hospital, Cap-" Hutch started, interrupted by Luyu.

"It's why I went to Winslow Memorial in the first place, because Hutch heard about the jeep and was concerned-"

"The jeep was on the back of the parking lot and my brother drove off before I could remind him-" Rick chimed in, slowing a little when he realized he was no longer part of a chorus. "-that...it was still on there."

"The jeep was on the back of a what?"

"A parking lot. A car carrier, an empty car hauler. We were finishing up a job, returning the truck to its owner in San Diego." Rick said.

"And you stopped and helped my men?"

"Yes sir. We got them to the hospital and the rig sorta sat there for a few hours, forgotten and by the time my brother figured out that I wanted to stay, he'd...remembered that the truck was rented in his name and he...took off. Drove back in the jeep."

"And you fellas just...drove right on into Winslow-" Dobey finished, echoing, flabbergasted, the general stupidity of the plan.

"Look it was a bad idea. Nobody's arguing that. The fact is that instead of being temporarily detained and questioned we were attacked by Reuben's men, thrown in a jail cell without a phone call or a lawyer, and then beaten to a pulp by his "diligent" officer Sam Waggoner." Rick returned, irritated and recalcitrant.

"How do you know it was Sam Waggoner?" Dobey demanded, cutting off Reuben before he could even start.

"He identified himself. Accused us of being in cahoots with the two men that killed his brother. Demanded to know where Abrams was, and when we couldn't tell him he-" Rick cut himself off and shifted in his corner, feeling a rush of bile come up his throat that he wasn't sure he could hold back. He pushed to his feet and swallowed then met Reuben squarely in the eye. "He locked me in my cell, took my brother into another cell and started beating him to death."

All eyes immediately went to Reuben expecting him to rally to the defense of his man but Reuben had taken to his feet and was pacing. His face was red, his hand rubbing more red into the back of his neck.

"Well!?" Dobey demanded, too hot to be in charge of the situation any longer, and fully aware of it.

"I couldn't-...I couldn't figure out how Sam got where he was in the other cell. Or why the prisoner had been moved...it didn't make sense until...now." Reuben turned a finger and his full gaze on Rick for a second. "But you did attack him. You hit him over the head with a billy club."

"In self-defense. To get him to lay off my brother." Rick growled.

"Why did you run?"

Rick gave him a look that accused him of being dense and having a poor sense of timing all at once.

"It wasn't the smartest thing to do," Dobey cut in, "But I can see why he might have felt he wouldn't find an advocate willing to defend him against a charge like that."

Dobey's full meaning hung in the air as Reuben continued his nervous pacing, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I think there's something else that should come to light here." Luyu said, hesitantly. She instantly had every eye in the room focused on her. "I just...Captain, you said you wanted to start at the beginning. I don't think we've gone back far enough. I talked with Anita Simmons."

Dobey rolled his eyes at yet another name in a confusion of names and looked to his men. He was surprised to find all but Rick instantly attuned.

"One of you had better explain..." Was all Dobey needed to say before Starsky took in a breath.

"Anita Simmons, she's Chuck Waggoner's grandmother. Abrams, the kid Sam Waggoner is so hot about, he was accused four years ago of involuntary manslaughter. He and his girlfriend….Han-" Starsky stalled.

"Haley." Hutch offered.

"Haley...both underage, both had alcohol in their systems. Abrams was driving, his car t-boned another car. The second vehicle was being driven by Anita Simmons, the girl's grandmother-"

"Not by Anita." Luyu cut in. "Anita was never out that night. She'd loaned the car to her grandson, Chuck."

Dobey's head was whirling, trying to keep track of the confusion of names and relationships.

"Chuck was driving the other car that night." Hutch said, suddenly paler than before.

"Chuck is?" Dobey asked, leaning closer to Luyu and the notepad, hoping somehow that there would be diagram for him to follow.

"Chuck Waggoner, Haley Waggoner's brother, Sam Waggoner's son, Dan Waggoner's nephew. Captain, Chuck told me this whole thing was about revenge on Abrams but he never mentioned that he was involved. He never said word one about having been there that night." Starsky blurted.

"Maybe he doesn't remember." Hutch said, then shook his head as if hastily wiping clean a chalk board. "It doesn't matter. What matters is, that's the connection. That's the thing that we've been missing. The entire Waggoner clan has been out to get this kid to cover up that accident. For all we know Sam Waggoner responded to it and-"

"No…" Reuben shook his head, his face waxy and suddenly pale. "Sam Waggoner didn't join the force until after Haley's funeral. They'd been depending on his wife's income, and she left, went to live with her mother. Sam desperately needed a job...Dan got it for him."

"Wait a minute." Rick interrupted. "You just said, Dan had only been serving as sheriff for-"

"For a year." Reuben nodded, "...before his niece Haley was killed...he said by Abrams."

The room fell silent for a moment and Luyu sat breathless in that second. They'd started out enemies. Two warring wolf packs that had, in that moment turned into what made them who they were and what they did in the first place. Problem solvers.

Hutch broke the silence with a slow, careful breath. "Did Dan ever report who the driver of the other car was?"

Reuben chewed on air for a moment, his hands going to his hips. "The driver of the other car fled the scene. Dan said he got there too late to ID 'em." Reuben tried to cross his arms over his chest but changed his mind halfway through and stood, squirming. "The focus was so much on Haley, we uh...we impounded the car and didn't look into it much after that."

"What did Abrams have to say?" Rick asked, watching Reuben mentally turning the years back.

"Said he was guilty. Looked guilty, acted guilty. He knew he'd been drinking that night. He tried to say that Haley was more drunk than he was, that's why he was driving, but...nobody wanted to hear anything bad about-"

"About the victim…" Rick said, nodding. "And nobody thought to wonder about the other driver. Why he or she woulda runaway?"

Reuben sniffed and stared at the ground. "Sheriff said he'd handle it. We figured, long as there weren't any dead bodies showing up…" The acting sheriff gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Your the sheriff now." Dobey cut in, waiting until the squirming cop met his gaze. "You can imagine why I'm asking, but how long have you been in uniform?"

"For the United States? Four years. My first tour ended prematurely, but I saw a little action. Went straight to the highway patrol after that, and was hired into Winslow PD by Dan...the year they made him sheriff." The uncomfortable wiggle came back and Luyu suddenly saw it. The man's boss and maybe hero had been murdered, then tarnished before his very eyes in less than a week. Of course he'd fought as blindly as he had. Of course he'd swayed toward Sam Waggoner being in the right, and newcomers like Starsky, Hutch and the Simon's being in the wrong.

As Luyu studied the faces around her she could see that they were catching on too.

Reuben was practically scraping the toe of his boot across the floor, his chin to his chest when he muttered, "I'm in the reserves..." Almost entirely to himself.

Rick watched the man, remembering his initial take on the acting sheriff. Young, eager, but cool headed with some experience behind him. He'd made plenty of mistakes lately, but he'd been right about that.

"Well then, Acting Sheriff Reuben..." Dobey began, getting to his feet and hitching up his pants. "...we have ten juveniles unaccounted for, ten bodies that need to be identified and found, and you have a murder to solve. I haven't got much to offer you in the way of interdepartmental support...I haven't got any jurisdiction...but I've got clout, two mules..." Dobey pointed casually at his detectives, then gestured toward the PI still technically hired by Bay City PD,"..and an ass under my payroll. What's your next move?"


	15. The Storm

Chapter 9

An hour later Dobey and Reuben were heading back through the hospital hallways, bound for the parking lot. Reuben had a notebook full of information tucked in his breast pocket and a hard road ahead of him that had nothing to do with the physical miles between Holbrook and Winslow.

"The county commissioner has been out of town for about a week, and I won't see the county circuit judge until tomorrow." Reuben was saying, morosely realizing how little backup he had at his disposal. "Dan Waggoner knew what he was doing when he insisted that prison transfer happen when it did."

Reuben snorted to himself and glanced toward the distant sky and a storm forming there. "The highest authority I can hope to have on my side is 2000 years old or more and we haven't been on speakin' terms for a while."

Dobey chuckled following the man's gaze. "I've been talking to Him fairly steadily since the day Starsky and Hutch were put in my care. I'll put in a good word."

Standing under the ER awning, his hat clutched in his hand, Reuben felt the tension in his shoulders ramping tighter by the second and grimaced. He stared at the dust covered 4x4 that now had a hasty Navajo County Sheriff sticker applied to the only clean area on the door and shook his head. "I'm still struggling to believe it. I...grew up with Dan Waggoner. I knew his brother was trouble but we'd begun to think that...that Haley's dying had shakin' the devil out of him. Chuck's always been a little shit, but not Dan."

"And Abrams?" Dobey asked.

Reuben's head flew up and he gave the police captain a sharp glare that disappeared just as quickly. Reuben's mind reeled back at twice the speed and he was lost in the past for a few minutes before he shook his head.

"Seems he doesn't really exist before Haley. Don't remember that family much at all before that."

"I'd say, that's your opener."

"What d'ya mean?"

Dobey drew in a breath and rocked back on his heels, his belly protruding a little more for a few seconds before he said, "You've got to turn a town full of old families, and a police department full of diehard zealots on its ear if you're going to reverse what Dan Waggoner set in motion. Your biggest enemy is going to be the memories those guys have of their sheriff. Ask them to think back before the events that made Dan a hero in their minds. You might be surprised at how many of them come around."

Reuben considered the idea, still reluctant to start his journey back. He hadn't expected to be sheriff. He really hadn't expected to be a sheriff preparing to go against the hearts and minds of most of the men in his department. With a bracing sigh the young man put his hat on his head, shook Dobey's hand, then trudged to his truck with the air of a condemned man.

He was behind the wheel, with the driver's window down, the engine turned over and gurgling before he said, "Captain Dobey, can I ask you favor?"

"Sure."

"I have a dog, a Britney spaniel named Josey. Somethin' happens to me...I'd sure appreciate knowing she's in good hands."

The look the young peace officer gave him brought a sympathetic smirk to Dobey's face. The kid would make an excellent sheriff...if he survived the week. "She'll be in good hands." Dobey called. "Yours. I'll be back in Winslow by morning."

Reuben nodded, backed his truck out of the parking space and sped out of the parking lot before he could change his mind again.

Dobey stood with his arms crossed, watching the black diesel smoke plume and dissipate, then turned to find two pale faced, barely recovered police detectives leaning against the building near the doors. The blonde one had a cane, the brunet a single crutch. Both wore clothes that had been through the wash recently, but the blood stains and ragged holes were still mostly visible.

"What do you two think you're doing?" He demanded, putting a little extra grizzly bear into his growl.

"Gettin' a little fresh air and exercise." Hutch said, eyes closed, face turned to the breeze with a peaceful smile.

"Huh." Dobey grunted, wandering slowly toward his men.

"How's the situation at home?" Starsky asked, dropping his volume as the captain got closer.

Dobey sighed. "Lotta bent badges and hurt feelings. As soon as the juvenile department got wind of what had happened with you two they used it as a campaign platform. They tried to blame the crash on the deteriorating bus."

A far away clap of thunder interrupted him and Dobey and his detectives snapped their heads up, eyeing the dark storm building in the distance. "Enough people started jumping on the band wagon, a rumor was going around that the strike had started because of the bus crash."

Hutch rolled his eyes, then glanced to his partner to find the man staring guiltily at the asphalt. "The condition of the bus had nothin' to do with it." He muttered, "And it wasn't driver error, either." He said, focused solely on Starsky until his partner looked up.

Dobey observed the silent exchange between the two, watching Starsky accept the vote of confidence and give his partner a half-hearted smirk that disappeared fairly quickly.

"I'm not lookin' forward to IA on our backs for another couple of months. I kinda want to find a hole to crawl into, and hibernate til it's over." Starsky muttered, his eyes redirecting to the approaching storm as a damp, cool breeze kicked up.

"Maybe we should talk to the police academy recruiters." Dobey said, thoughtfully.

Both his men stared at him with confusion on their faces.

"They need to start recruiting at law schools and in stenography classes."

"You feelin' alright, Captain?" Starsky asked, brow knit in concern.

"I need a few more cops with a heartless tendency to follow the rules to the letter, and typing speeds of 80 words-per-minute." Dobey said, as if he hadn't heard them speak.

Both men snorted, smiles breaking on their faces before they noticed the knowing look on their captain's face.

"But then where would Bay City be with cops like that?" Dobey asked.

"Swimming in reports." Hutch said.

"Two-bit criminals filling the jails to capacity, while the real bad guys roamed the streets." Starsky said.

"Guess I won't be able to let you hibernate after all, Starsky." Dobey said poignantly. "Seems I need cops like you two...to keep the jails empty for the heavy hitters. And my inbox clean."

"I think he missed us, Starsk." Hutch said grinning ear to ear.

"Don't push it, Hutchinson." Dobey barked, but he was smiling when he said it. "You two go for your walk before this storm hits. I'm gonna find something to eat."

Dobey grinned to himself as he passed through the hospital doors, followed in by the sound of Hutch and Starsky busting up under the awning. It felt good to hear them laugh, especially knowing what lay ahead of them.

*******

After the conclusion of the "peace conference", as the hospital staff had begun to call it, Luyu had busied herself with getting release orders for three of the four men, then had gone to check on AJ Simon. She stood, watching the machines monitoring AJ's heart, lungs and brain waves spool endless reams of paper onto the floor, not breaking the quiet that Rick unconsciously imposed. The thin, tall man had been a silent statue in his brother's room since leaving the "conference", sitting in a darkened corner without moving.

When he stood, Luyu glanced over to him, expecting him to leave the room for a cup of coffee or a break. She was surprised when his brassy baritone broke the silence.

"There was this doc I ran into in Nam." He began stepping closer to his brother's bed, his arms crossed over his thin chest. "It was rare to have a girl doc over there. She mighta been Navy. I'd seen her a few times at our home base, just in passing. Had to pull her and some wounded out of a mess once. The whole ride from the field to the med unit she had her hand buried deep in this guy's leg, holding onto an artery." One of Rick's hands had escaped and he held his pointer finger and thumb a millimeter apart.

"She was soaked in sweat and mud and gor-" Rick stopped himself and glanced up, and was surprised to see Luyu listening intently, and not flinching away. "Uh...anyway. She uh...stayed real calm the whole way back. Went straight into surgery with him. I know she saved his life...not sure about his leg, but I happened to be there when she finished for the night. It was midnight or so, pouring down rain."

Rick's eyes shifted to the oxygen tent surrounding his brother, but he was looking beyond it, and back to another time and place. "She stood in the wet like she couldn't feel it, put her face up to the sky and took off her cover, let her hair out of the bun. I remember being fascinated by this sheet of long, black hair, watching it soak up the rain instantly. Watching her...just stand there in the downpour. Knowing that she'd probably been in surgery all that time."

Rick's lips came together, his face pinching into regret as he shook his head, "I wanted to say something to her, offer her a cup of coffee or...snort of somethin' but I just...couldn't interrupt her. I felt like..that was the most peace she was going to get for a long time." Rick's lips pressed together firmly and he said, "I couldn't take that from her."

"Do you remember her name?"

"Doctor Young...that's all I ever knew. Never knew her rank, either. I don't think we ever spoke a word to each other, even on that chopper ride." Rick looked down at his hands for a minute. "The uh...the man she helped save was our chaplain. Meant a lot to us. I never got to thank her for...doin' what she did."

"It was her job." Luyu said.

"Wearin' another man's blood should never be anybody's job." Rick said, then took a step closer to the bed. He reached a hand over his brother's blanketed legs and Luyu took it.

His callused skin closed around her fingers and palm and she accepted the thank you that Rick, for whatever reason, couldn't or wouldn't voice.

"Thank you…" She said in response, "...for your sacrifice."

Rick didn't respond, eventually taking his hand back.

"Can I..buy you a coffee?" He asked and they both smiled, chuckling softly.

"Rain check." Luyu said with a soft grin, then turned back to the spools of information, checking a few more things before she left Rick and his brother in peace.

She meandered slowly down the hallway toward the bank of elevators thinking about the woman in the rain, wondering if she could track the doctor down somehow. She had no more influence or pull than Rick did, but she was very well acquainted with two stellar detectives.

"Doctor Young.." She said to herself, before she stepped onto the elevator and rode it down to the floor she'd spent most of the day on. She was surprised to hear her name being paged a minute later, with the request to come to the main reception desk.

Without having to ask Luyu was pointed toward the waiting room of the ER but came to a sudden stop at the sight of Abrams standing with a pale, world-worn woman somewhere in her late 40s. She had bags under her eyes and her permed brown hair was showing some gray at the temples. She wore a waitress uniform and white tennis shoes, a worn, comfortable looking cardigan over the uniform despite the heat of the day.

"I'm...Dr. Luyu Samara, is there something I can-" A crack of thunder interrupted her, drawing Luyu's attention briefly to the glass ER doors before the woman spoke.

"I'm Jennifer Simmons Waggoner. I'd like to see the men that were driving the bus."

Luyu's mouth dropped open and she glanced at Abrams. She had left the teenager with his girlfriend's grandmother, not remembering that Anita Simmon's daughter, Jennifer lived at the same residence. In her mind she could see the encounter, between the mother of a dead girl and the boy held responsible by the court for her death, and instantly regretted yet another mistake.

"Mrs. Waggoner...I-"

"Miss Simmons, please. If I could afford to change my name, I would."

"Miss Simmons...I...apologize for leaving Robby at your home, but your mother seemed congenial-"

"How I feel about Robby Abrams is irrelevant. I've come to see those men."

"May I ask why?" Luyu asked carefully. From the moment she had spotted him, Abrams had been standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained fiercely on the tile floor. He'd been unreadable, as had the older woman with him.

Miss Simmons' eyes were the color of old oxidized brass, a dull blue green that focused solely on Luyu for a long breath.

"I lost my baby girl." She said, her lips barely moving. A moment later Luyu realized her teeth hadn't moved either. They were gritted tightly together. "I know this boy didn't do it. And I want to set that record straight."

"Miss Simmons...I-"

"Miss Simmons, my name is Ken Hutchinson..."

Luyu glanced up, jumping a little at the sound of the blonde's voice. She'd forgotten that the two had made their way out of the hospital for some fresh air. She felt a rush of relief go through her, at the sight of their concerned and attentive faces behind Abrams and Simmons.

"This is my partner David Starsky."

Jennifer Simmons turned to address the two men and Luyu saw her fingertips shakily slide over her lips, her face going blank as she took in the damage each of the men had sustained. "M-my boy did this?" She asked, quivering.

"I'm sorry?" Hutch asked, his hand reaching out in concern as tears formed in the older woman's eyes, bouncing across the leathery skin.

"You're...Haley's mom." Starsky said, hesitantly, realizing the significance of the woman's relationship. Luyu nodded when Starsky met her eyes for confirmation.

The sound of her daughter's name strangely brought her tears to an end and Miss Simmons straightened, taking in a bracing breath. "I'm Chuck's mother too." She said, sternly. "And I can't condone his actions, not if what I've heard is true."

"What have you heard?" Hutch asked, still mostly lost. The storm raging visibly behind them picked up its pace, the clouds darkening the view out the window, a few of the decorative pines swaying dramatically.

"That there are ten boys...dead." Miss Simmons said, her eyes flickering to Abrams briefly. "And four men very badly hurt because of my son, my ex-husband, my ex-brother-in-law."

"Uh...there's…" Starsky laughed a little without mirth and said, "There's an open investigation into the situation. We can't give you any details-"

"It doesn't matter. I know the Waggoner men. I know how their..minds work. If there was a way to blame this on someone else they would find it."

Abrams and Simmons exchanged a strange glance that Starsky caught. Behind them fat, cold raindrops had started to splatter against the window, the sounds coming in spurts with every hard gust of wind.

"I came here to make a statement. Holbrook cops got no idea what's going on, and I refuse to ever set foot in Winslow again. Robby said you men was here, and he said you was trustworthy."

"You..want to make a statement." Hutch repeated, and Miss Simmons nodded.

"Uh...go ahead." Hutch said, glancing at his partner who shrugged.

"Don't you have an office?" Simmons asked, glancing around her. Outside lightning flashed bright in the gloom, promising a window shaking crash of thunder that didn't disappoint.

"Ma'am, we're from California." Starsky said, shifting on his crutch.

For a long moment, blue-green eyes flicked back and forth between the two men, Miss Simmons' mind whirring away with thoughts they couldn't begin to imagine. The frenzy of the storm seemed to match the speed at which she considered the situation. When she finally took in a deep breath Starsky fully expected her to have changed her mind about the whole thing.

Instead she said, "Chuck was driving his grandmother's car that night. The night Haley died. He went after the two because he didn't like Robby. Chuck and Robby's older brother hated each other. They'd fought over a girl in school or something stupid. Chuck didn't want Haley goin' with Robby and he'd been drinking, working himself up."

Rain was soaking the windows, street and grass with the efficiency of a car wash as Miss Simmons eyes flooded with tears. Her lips quivered when she pressed them together, but she kept talking. "Chuck heard from the boy that was throwing the party that night, that his sister was drunk, needed a ride home. Robby had offered to take her home himself, but Chuck knew they was underage, and he told Haley to stay at the party. Haley had a will of her own. She told her brother to go to hell and she got in the car with Robby. When Chuck got to the house he was told what Haley had done and he stormed out, lookin' for them."

Air hissed into the woman's lungs and she opened her mouth to say more but couldn't at first. The thunder filled the gap, rolling incessantly.

Miss Simmons finally swallowed, then choked on her words. "Sam always had a temper. Chuck weren't much better. He never did tell me what he was thinkin' when he did it. But Robby didn't accidentally hit Chuck, Chuck run them off the road."

Starsky and Hutch looked at each other, desperately fitting the pieces together with the new information, deafened by a sudden lull in the storm. Luyu had moved closer to Robby, watching his face pinch closed with emotion as the details of the nightmare four years ago were dragged into the open. She'd gently laid a hand on his arm, and when he didn't shrug away, she kept it there. She could feel him start to tremble and knew instantly what was coming.

Outside the wind suddenly howled against the windows, rain pelted the building and the thunder rolled once more.

"When Chuck saw...what he'd done to his own sister, he run off. His dad and his uncle covered up that they'd known it was him. They made it sound like Robby'd been weaving and that's how the cars got how they was. Chuck come home to me that night, covered in puke and blood...he tol' me what he done. Tol' me his uncle told him not to say nothin' about it."

Lightning and thunder fought, competing for attention, the flashes of light and booms of sound getting more and more violent, the wind whipping the decorative trees into a frenzy.

"Later Dan and that bastard Sam told me how they lied to the other men in the department. By then I…. I wanted someone to hate. And I couldn't bring myself to hate the only child I had left."

The bolt of lightning that struck the hospital was followed by a sonic crash of thunder that Luyu could swear she felt vibrating in her bones. The lights went out instantly, cutting Miss Simmons off, then were replaced with the red and green glow of emergency lights. Luyu's eyes strayed to the windows showing the full fury of the storm and she watched one of the decorative pines vibrate like a piano string under high tension before it was ripped from the ground, roots and all.

She gasped, the act so violent and sudden, it was as if the storm had it in mind to do the same to them next.

"We should move away from the windows." Hutch said quietly, then repeated the statement to the few patients and staff in the room.

Luyu moved with the group, the image of the pine tree playing over and over in her head as they moved deeper into the building.


	16. The Storm Part II

Chapter 10

The storm raged against the building, all the louder in the artificial hush that followed the loss of power. Nurses and doctors were rushing into each of the rooms, checking on their patients. It took a few minutes for Luyu to remember her remaining patient, and all the machines that surrounded him. Machines that required power.

"AJ!" She blurted, then rushed to the elevator and hit the button. It didn't light and she growled angrily at herself and followed the signs to the nearest staircase.

Neither Starsky nor Hutch could keep up with her and after watching her disappear into the shadows beyond the slow swing of the stairwell door, Hutch grit his teeth and stared around him. Every part of his being demanded that he find a way to help out and he could see the same anxiety on his partner's face. Hutch braced his side and went as fast as he could to the nurse's desk.

"My name is Ken Hutchinson, I'm a cop. Is there anything I can do?"

"Are you also a patient?" The nurse there asked, her hands busy with a flashlight in one hand and a collection of patient charts in another.

"Just for kicks, let's say, no."

The nurse eyed his hand pressed to his side, the cane in the other hand, then looked over his shoulder at something that made her fight a smile. She fished behind the desk and found a flashlight handing it across the high counter. She slapped a metal object down next to it and it took Hutch a second to recognize it as an emergency elevator key.

"We need somebody to check the elevator shafts, make sure nobody's stuck in the cars."

Hutch glanced over his shoulder where he knew his partner would be and said, "I think we can handle that."

He gave the nurse a smile that he swore made her blush then led the way toward the elevator doors, Starsky, Robby and Jennifer Simmons in tow.

*****

When she got to the room the oxygen tent had been pushed out of the way. Rick stood by the bed, one hand holding his brother's, the other resting lightly over his chest.

"Is he breathing?" Luyu asked, panting.

"Yeah…" Rick said, his teeth bared. "Not real easy, but he's breathin'."

Luyu pushed into the room, navigating the shadows carefully so as not to trip over something that might rip a vital tube or wire away from the patient. She physically checked each of the machines, reminding herself of what they did and why, and just how vital that function had been for AJ's survival. The biggest problem was the pump that had been feeding oxygen through the cannula perched under the blonde's nose. The rich air had compensated for the reduced capacity of a weak lung and provided AJ's brain and organs with the O2 he couldn't get on his own.

The deprivation wouldn't kill him, but it would hamper his recovery, and the chain reaction of his body acclimating could do damage to the lung in the end.

"Storm knock the power out?" Rick asked.

"I think we were hit by lightning. It's the worst storm I've seen in a long time." Luyu said, the image of the tree twisted from the ground, roots and all, still with her.

She checked AJs pulse and respiratory rate and was reaching for her breast pocket, prepared to check his pupil dilation when she realized that she had no penlight to do it with. Seconds later the on-call doctor swung into the room with a flashlight and a nurse in tow.

"How is he?"

"Respiration is steady, if strained. No major change in heart rate from the last readings the machines took. I don't have a-"

The doctor produced a penlight and Luyu took it, forcing open an eye and flashing the light across the pupil. Not only did the black circle respond, but so did the patient, flinching slightly at the bright light.

"Pupils respond normally." Luyu said, pulling her hands away. "He might be waking up."

"The saline drip and antibiotics are gravity powered but the sedative drip isn't. He's not getting pain meds, either. He's gonna be up and at 'em soon." The doctor said, moving around Rick and the bed to get to the spools of tape wound like snakes on the floor. He studied the information for a few minutes, then said. "Wouldn't hurt him to wake up, but we don't want him moving too much."

"What about this storm?" Rick asked, glancing at the doctor, then the nurse who seemed intently concerned with the same question.

"That'll be something to ask the weatherman once we have the phones back." The doctor said, smiling almost too casually. "For now it's going to be awful hard to get your brother off this floor without the elevators."

"What about your emergency generators?"

The doctor studied the tall man for a long moment then took in a slow breath and said, "We have three gas powered generators that haven't been run in about twelve years. There's rarely a call for their use in this part of the state. Frankly I'm surprised but pleased that my staff even remembers what a blackout drill looks like. The generators will keep the emergency lights going, but that may be it."

"So we should...sit tight." Luyu said, looking between the two men. One unnaturally calm, and the other moderately furious.

"That's about the size of it." The doctor said.

"What do we do if he wakes up?" Rick asked.

"Read him a bedtime story." The doctor said, then nodded his head to Luyu and took his nurse back out into the hall.

*******

There were three elevators in the building. The other two shafts were down two separate hallways, but the shaft they'd gone to first was in the center of the building and the one most likely to have people caught in it.

With Robby's help they pried the doors open enough to get the key into the slot. With a twist of his wrist Hutch was able to release the catch that intentionally made the doors impossible to open without a car behind them, and he shone his flashlight down the dark chasm.

"D'ya see anything?" Starsky asked, trying to crowd into the gap.

"Yep." Hutch said. "Dark."

"D'ya see the elevator?" Starsky retorted, testily.

"I dunno. What does an elevator look like from outside?" Hutch asked, then glanced at his partner.

Starsky had to admit it was good question and he thought about it, leaning out into the shaft and looking up. "How about a dark platform with a buncha cables hanging from it?"

His question echoed up the shaft and Hutch joined him, shining the flashlight toward the roof. The minute the walls were defined by the thin beam of light Starsky disappeared back into the hallway, turning so that his back was supported by solid paneling, his face suddenly bathed with sweat.

"Sure. I'll believe that." Hutch said, eyeing the collection of pulleys, cables and electronic boxes thirty feet above his head. "Looks like the second floor? Maybe third?"

Starsky made a face then drew in a breath and turned his face back toward the opening, shouting. "Hey! Anybody up there?"

For a long moment all they could hear was the distant wind, thunder and rain, then they heard a slight creak and watched the car sway a few inches.

"Hey!" Starsky tried again. "If you can hear me, we're comin' to get ya. Hang on."

But for the echo of his voice and the creak of the elevator nothing answered him back and the brunette raised a brow at his partner. "Wanna flip a coin?"

Hutch looked his partner over, using the flashlight for emphasis then shook his head. "I'll take Robby and the key. You take the flashlight, see if there isn't another key. Check the other two doors on this level."

"Sounds amenable." Starsky said, watching his partner smirk.

"Learned a new word did ya?"

"Been writing love letters to Luyu behind your back." Starsky grinned, bouncing his eyebrows.

"Remind me to kill ya later." Hutch said, then headed for the stairs.

"Alright Miss Simmons, feel like living a day in the life of a cop?" Starsky asked, eyeing the woman that had stuck with them for lack of any other place to go.

She eyed the gaping maw of the elevator shaft then shrugged and let Starsky lead the way back to the nurse's desk.

*******

"That doc thinks he's a real hoot...bedtime story." Rick groused then turned back to his brother, the grip the blonde's fingers had on his hand getting a little tighter with every passing minute. He'd already begun moaning a few minutes before, the sound coming out of his mouth with each breath. "Couldn't he have brought a shot of somethin'."

"In an emergency situation protocol is to lock up and conserve resources that aren't needed immediately to preserve life. That includes high-power pain killers." Luyu said, standing on the other side of the bed. She had one hand on A.J.'s wrist, the other turned palm down so that she could watch the second hand.

"It's a thunderstorm!" Rick barked, a little too loudly. Luyu saw him wince at his own volume, but he held the annoyed look on her.

"It's knocked out the power, Rick. And it could be doing worse damage around Holbrook and all the scattered ranches and hamlets outside it. The hospital is going to be very popular in the next few hours and they need to prepare for that."

Rick studied her for a few minutes then said, "Sounds like you've been through something like this before."

Luyu sighed softly. "Something like it...I live..lived in the mountains. The winter season guarantees snow, power outages and the occasional avalanche every year. If it was bad enough to knock out power at the hospital, we could expect a rush of business a few hours later."

AJ's face was starting to tighten, the pain showing around his still closed eyes. He drew in his next breath through gritted teeth and on the breath that followed his eyes opened. He saw Luyu first, found his brother next, then felt the pain and tried to arch his back.

"AJ...AJ! You gotta calm down, take your breaths slow and easy. You got plenty of air and your lungs are workin' fine, but you gotta take it easy." Rick coached. "Slow and easy, that's it."

Luyu winced at the sudden increase in heart rate but she kept silent, counting beats and listening to the pitch of the air whistling through AJ's lips.

*******

The stairs weren't as bad as Hutch expected them to be. That was until he encountered more than the first ten. The first ten were a breeze. After that he started to slow, abused muscles started to burn and he used the cane more and more. He stood on the landing of floor two for a few minutes before he could venture out into the hallway, Robby going ahead of him and getting the first part of the door opening process started.

Hutch held the light and talked Robby through hitting the release catch with the key. The doors banged open and they both leaned into the darkness, spotting the small circle of light of the floor below.

"Gotta be on the third floor, huh?" Robby said.

Hutch only groaned, turned back to the stairs and wondered how he had managed to get so old in so short a period of time.

He got to the third floor well behind Robby. By the time he arrived at the open, and empty, elevator car he'd decided that slow and steady would win the race and handed the key and the flashlight to the kid.

"Get those to Starsky…" He said, leaning hard against the wall by the elevator, "Don't let him climb any stairs. And don't fall down the shafts…"

The kid gave him a strange look but took the key, the flashlight and his leave in short order.

Hutch lifted his shirt to check the bandage, nodded to himself pleased with the lack of bleeding, then inched his way down the hall to the ICU, following the soft sound of Rick's voice muttering for someone to breathe.

*******

The second key plan had been a bust. Trying to force the doors all the way open without the key, and with a busted hand, was even worse. Starsky had started knocking out Morse code on the elevator doors when Robby showed up. Together they opened the doors, scanned the shaft and found the elevator car a floor below them.

"Downstairs." Robby said eagerly, looking around him for another set of stairs.

"Nah, nah, hold on. We check out the other shaft first, then we go for the stairs."

Robby squirmed a little, giving Starsky the extreme impression that it'd been a long time since he'd had this much exercise or freedom. The kid settled, though Starsky could see the grip he had on the elevator key and knew he was attempting to contain a dervish.

As it turned out, Starsky's instincts were spot on. They got to the third elevator and could hear voices shouting on the other side of the door. Judging by the volume Starsky figured they were right there on the main floor.

One of the voices was female, loud and very frightened. Muffled, angry words were intermittently cut off by long, strained screams. There was a male voice too, struggling to be heard over the female one. Convinced that someone was slowly being tortured to death, Starsky and Abrams rushed through the door opening process at twice the speed. The curly haired detective nearly got his bandaged hand stuck in the door, and Robby almost stabbed himself with the key multiple times.

When the doors opened they were greeted with not two, but three passengers on the elevator. A sweat covered, pale faced redhead sprawled on the floor of the elevator in blood covered maternity clothes. Her brand new, bouncing baby boy wrapped in a two-ply nylon suit jacket, wailed healthily in her arms. Seated in an exhausted lump in the other corner of the elevator was a panting Captain Dobey.

*******

"How'd you get up here?"

"Climbed. Stairs." Hutch said, wincing as he sank into the chair Rick normally occupied.

Luyu groaned angrily but there was nothing she could do about it. AJ was struggling to stay calm in the face of the pain and his legs had begun to kick. He'd upset the catheter that way and Luyu was afraid the pumping of his diaphragm would be enough to undo some of the stitches.

Rick was still keeping his brother relatively grounded but the pain was winning. AJ's blood pressure was twice as high as it had been and steadily increasing. Rick was reading the worry on her face, whether she'd wanted him to or not, and finally released his brother and attacked the IV stand. With both hands pulling and pushing and tugging at the apparatus Rick managed to break the plastic casing open and used the penlight to study the wires and connectors inside.

The violent explosion of movement had Hutch on his feet again, limping around the bed and leaning in to study the electric work, until between them they figured out a way to modify the machine to take a battery.

"Won't be a little one though...we'll need something substantial." Rick said.

"Car battery." Hutch said, then thought about the mess that was currently occupying the parking lot.

"What about those?"

"Those?"

"The emergency lights." Rick said, pointing at the faint green light coming from the wall, two feet away.

Hutch considered the two bulbs, hidden behind a sign, and the fact that they were still on. "We can't turn the power off to the panel."

Rick thought for a moment then said, "No, but we can turn power off to the bulb."

For a long moment Hutch stared at Rick trying to remember the few things he'd learned long ago from his grandfather, and in more recent years when he'd tried to do his own electric work on the LTD.

"You two aren't seriously considering-" Then AJ bucked under her and it was all Luyu could do to keep his hands from ripping out every tube.

Rick and Hutch moved in the same moment, Hutch going after the panel on the wall and Rick pulling the plug for the IV stand out of the socket and cutting and stripping the power cord.

*******

The basement was a trek and a trial, but worth it once Starsky remembered that the cafeteria was on that level. They found the third and final elevator blessedly empty and meandered into the large, gloomy room full of a vats of steaming food. The kitchen ladies had mounted their deep, square serving pans on top of little pats of cooking fuel and were serving hot meals of soup, spaghetti, green beans and rolls. Starsky, Simmons and Abrams got into the line. Realizing how long it was, Starsky decided he would grab food for the rest of their party and wondered aloud, "Where did Hutch end up again?"

"Third floor." Robby said, his stomach growling at the smell, sight, even thought of food.

Starsky considered the uncomfortable pressure of the crutch under his arm, the already present throbbing in his leg and shoulder, the struggle that 'down' had been. "You never realize how much you rely on modern technology until it's gone." He muttered grumpily.

"Try living in squat house without power for three days." Robby muttered, struggling not to let the memory of the cold cans of mystery meat that had been his only meal in his old house overwhelm his appetite.

Starsky remembered going without power for a week, but kept it to himself moving with the line, determined to collect enough food to feed their small army, and get it to them, come hell or high water.

*******

The lightbulb idea worked, sort of. The power they could draw from the two thin pieces of metal that normally met in the middle of the bulb at the filament was enough to either run the sedative pump or the pain med pump and Luyu declared immediately that they should run the pain meds.

Once all the necessary wires were connected, Hutch screwed the loose bulb back into its socket and they waited no more than a few seconds before the machine clicked, whirred, and came to life. The near silent hum of the pump fed a steady, bubble-less stream of pain meds straight into AJ's veins and in seconds his muscles began to relax.

With Luyu once again monitoring heart rate, Rick returned to his brother's side encouraging him to sleep. AJ drifted off, his grip relaxing against Rick's until his breathing was once again steady. The heartbeat under her fingertips was strong and pulsing at a healthier pace. Luyu blinked away a sudden collection of saltwater in her eyes and finally let her shaking fingers release AJ's wrist.

By the time Starsky, Robby and Jennifer had made it through the line the power had been out in the hospital for almost two hours. The wind had reduced outside, the rain still pounding steadily. The thunder and lightning prevailed but only as occasional bursts of light and sound.

The climb to the top most floor of the hospital was a chore Starsky wouldn't forget for a long time to come. It reminded him of the physical therapy a few years ago. Endless hours, days and weeks of wondering how three tiny pieces of lead could turn him into an 80-year-old with the equivalent of lumbago and gout, wheezing like a man that'd smoked five packs a day for thirty years.

He wasn't there now, he reminded himself, and kept going.

He hadn't, in the end, had to carry any food up. The kitchen ladies recognized him right away and when he casually mentioned that he would need a few extra meals for the rest of the group on the third floor, the kitchen staff flew into frenzied excitement.

Starsky was at the rear of a parade of women carrying plates, bowls, trays, silverware and cups, and plastic containers of each of the meal options complete with serving utensils. They'd practically offered to carry up chairs and tables when Starsky, laughing, promised them they could comfortably picnic on the third floor if need be.

Starsky was somewhere between the second and third floors, climbing solo, when the door opened and a blonde man with a cane limped to the edge of the top landing. He had a roll in one hand and was chewing on the bite he'd taken out of it as he watched the familiar brunette take one step at a time.

"You know…" Hutch said, swallowing, "I'm beginning to think this state doesn't like us."

Starsky paused, breathing about as hard as he might have after a long run. His leg was starting to feel sunburn raw, his shoulder not too happy either with the weight he'd been forcing it to handle. A pause for the cause, he decided, was perfectly acceptable, and he laughed at his partner, letting his head lean against the wall.

"Just because we crashed a bus into a canyon, tore up a small town and trapped ourselves in a hospital in the middle of a monsoon, you've gotta come out here...with your negative attitude."

Hutch snorted, his face splitting into a grin. "You need any help there, partner?"

Starsky caught his breath quickly enough, and felt some of his flagging energy return and pushed away from the wall a second later. "Oh no, I got it." He breathed, taking on the next step, then the next, then the next.

"Thanks for buyin' dinner." Hutch added, his eyes focused intently on the strain on Starsky's face, ready to leap to his aide if needs be, no matter how unable he might have actually been in that moment to leap at all.

"The wait staff was so eager…" Starsky mumbled, giving his partner a brief look that had Hutch laughing again.

"I'll bet they were."

Hutch stepped back from the edge of the landing and gave his partner room to get to the top, his good hand going out and hovering near Starsky's good shoulder, just in case.

"Someday...when we are very old, retired, codgery curmudgeons...we are going to look back at this day…" Starsky said, his eyes lit by the faint light coming through the window in the door, "...and wish we could be so limber."

Starsky started to laugh and Hutch joined him. The two met in the middle in an embrace that neither could claim to have started, but both knew they needed. The physical connection strengthened the undefinable bond between them, and when they moved apart again, both men felt whole.

The went together out of the stairwell and into the large room that occupied a quarter of the top floor. Built in the style of an airline departing gate the giant waiting room area featured a bank of wide, floor to ceiling windows that showed all of Holbrook downtown and the mesa's and buttes beyond it.

Through the dwindling rain they could easily pick out the devastation the storm had brought, most of it in the form of downed trees and flooding. Their picnic had been laid out on a pair of coffee tables pushed together and the group of people, including a cleaned up Dobey and a hovering Rick, studied the windows like they were a giant hidden picture puzzle. Lead by Jennifer and Robby, various dynamic changes from the storm were pointed out amounting to their entertainment for the afternoon.

Doctors, nurses and a handful of patients paid brief visits to the group, but for the most part they were left on their own. Until the power came back on, well after the sun had gone down, the crew of partial strangers stuck to the third floor of the hospital. The ailing got what rest they could, and the well joined a rotating watch that kept a close eye on the one member of the group that couldn't join them.

Luyu found herself picking over the left overs a few hours after they'd gone cold and wasn't much surprised to see Robby leaning against one of the large windows, munching on a roll. He had a small photograph in his hand, lit by the waning sunlight coming through the still thick clouds. Luyu went to the windows, a mug of room temperature soup in her hands, and felt a slight tap against her elbow after a moment.

She glanced down and took the photo that Robby had thrust toward her, and sank into the smiling faces of 14-year-old Robby and Haley. In the photo both were perched on Robby's bicycle, Haley standing behind Robby on the axle of the back wheel, her hands on his shoulders. Haley looked like her mother. Younger, more vital, bearing smooth shoulders that would have been deeply freckled by now, if she'd seen four more summers of sun.

"She was beautiful." Luyu said softly, handing the photo back.

Robby gazed at it, his eyes heavy with the memory of the subject, his teeth working at his lower lip for a moment before he forced his eyes away from the photo. "When they sent me up...they wouldn't let me have a picture of her." His voice went up an octave and became feather light as he said, "I haven't seen her in a long time."

Luyu thought for a moment. "It's not been much of a homecoming, has it?"

Robby looked out the window, studying the skyline with a weariness that went beyond tired muscles and bones. "Knew it wouldn't be. My folks moved away. All my friends stopped writing me couple years ago. I kinda thought...it might be good to be forgotten for a while."

"Not everyone could forget."

Robby looked at Luyu and shook his head.

"Maybe that's a good thing." Luyu offered, nodding her head toward Jennifer Simmons who sat with a tattered magazine in the corner. The woman had been there to make a confession after all, a confession that could work in Robby's favor in a big way.

Robby was quiet for a moment then said, "Starsky and Hutch...they gonna be okay? And that Rick guy and his brother?"

Luyu thought about the men she had unceremoniously claimed as her patients and smiled softly. "They're gonna be okay."

"Nobody ever...tried that hard to save my life, you know?"

Luyu nodded, remembering her own first encounter with the Bay City cops. She'd walked into her brother's office shortly after the two, along with Captain Dobey, had wiped out three men trying to kill Starsky. Never in her experience with the blood brothers had she known them to do anything by halves.

Robby had pushed the photograph into the pocket of his jeans and pulled his arms across his chest, his shoulders almost to his ears before he let out a sigh. "S'nice though, seeing Holbrook, you know, before I had to go."

"Go?"

Robby shrugged uncomfortably. "I still got three more weeks on my sentence. Transfer just got me back to AZ a little sooner."

Luyu found she couldn't respond. She stared at the boy, nearly eighteen, accepting the fact of three more weeks of imprisonment the way some kids accepted that their favorite flavor of ice cream was no longer available.

"What will you do when you're released?"

A strange light came into the kid's eyes and a faint smile came to his lips. "All I wanted to do was see Haley one last time, then hitch out of AZ and find a job. Miss Simmons took me to see her this morning…" Robby trailed off, nodding to himself. "Guess that just leaves finding a job."

"What do you want to be, Robby?"

"Anything I can be.." Robby said.

In her heart of hearts, with every fiber of her being Luyu wished she could make Robby a time traveler. She wanted to turn back the clock and grab his 14-year-old self, tell him what the immediate future might hold and steer him away from that fateful night.

Then she wanted to attend his graduation, throw rice at his wedding, hold his first born, celebrate his first degree...she wanted to see the kind of man that Robby could have been without the death sentence of a conviction hanging over him for the rest of his life.

"If you ever need a character reference, or a helping hand…" Luyu said. "I think you've got four or five people who would happily vouch for you."

Robby gave her a small, wise smile that he was far too young for, then went back to staring out the window.


	17. The Clean Slate

Chapter 11

When Sam Waggoner woke up in a hospital bed at Winslow Memorial to see one of his fellow officers on duty outside his room, and Sheriff Reuben seated inches from his bed, he thought at first that Rick Simon was at large, and he was under police protection. Then he noticed the handcuffs securing him to the bed.

"What the hell's goin' on!? Reuben, what…"

"You're under arrest, Sam." Reuben said, taking no delight in the telling.

"What for? Huh? Roughin' up those two yokels? You notice he attacked me, with my own billy club?" Sam blurted, then rattled the cuffs. "Get these things offa me."

"Not for that, Sam. For attempted murder, attacking an officer of the law with intent to do harm, vehicular manslaughter, premeditated assault with a deadly weapon…"

Sam's eyes narrowed, a feral glint turning into a hate-filled glare. "I wouldn't go stickin' my neck into somebody else's family business if I was you. You're a good cop. Make a good sheriff. But you leave it alone, Reuben. And take these damn cuffs off."

Reuben considered Sam for a brief moment, baffled at the man's audacity, and the confidence with which he blithely posed a veiled threat. Captain Dobey had been right about the other men in the department. Reminding them of how they felt about Dan and Sam Waggoner before Dan's campaign for sheriff, brought half of them around. The other half got squirrelly when they noticed the crowd turning and threw their badges and pieces on his desk the minute he gave the invitation.

Reuben had a lot of new positions to fill but he felt better knowing he could trust the few that remained. Not one of them was willing to lie to keep Sam on the force or out of jail. Sam didn't even have his son anymore, for all Reuben knew. Yet he lay there, chained to a bed, making demands.

"You're under arrest, Sam." Reuben repeated. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and if you don't have one I'm sure we can get Jake Hanson to represent ya. And before you say anything else, so long as you're awake, you can consider our conversation an official interrogation."

Sam was struggling to sit up, tugging uselessly at the cuffs.

Reuben reached behind him and snapped on the tape recording device that, of all people, Dan Waggoner had purchased for the department. The thin strip of polyester started to churn through the machine and Reuben said, "Everything you say will be on tape, so you might clean up your act a little."

"What the hell is goin' on? Who the hell you been talking to?"

"Starsky and Hutchinson, the two cops you and Chucky ran off the road a week ago."

"Where's Chuck, where's my boy?" Sam demanded, his breathing increasingly frantic.

Reuben pursed his lips for a moment before he said, "Sam, a storm come through last night. Lots of wind, lots of rain. Seems your boy was down in that canyon, messing with that bus. That whole canyon's underwater now. We found some gasoline cans and some flares further downstream. Found Chucky's truck parked up on the west side of the canyon. We ain't found your boy yet."

The doctors had told the sheriff that his former officer's head injury was bad enough, he might have gaps in his memory. But as the shock wore off, and the reality of his situation sank in, it seemed Sam had suffered the opposite. Instead of losing memories, he'd gain some that Reuben was sure weren't actually true.

Sam tried to begin by blaming everything on his older brother Dan, claiming first that the former sheriff had had a vendetta against the cops from long ago. When Reuben pointed out that Dan had never met the cops, according to the still living police officers, Sam changed his story.

The second variation was that Dan wanted revenge on the kids coming back to Winslow, then more specifically on Abrams for what he'd done to Haley. Reuben dropped the bomb on him then, telling him that an anonymous source claimed that Chucky had been responsible for Haley's death.

Sam clammed up, closing his eyes and claiming he was tired. Reuben sat back, said that was fine and went quiet. He didn't know why he left the tape recording, but he did. When he was sure Sam was sleeping, Reuben had risen from his chair and gone for a cup of coffee. He'd barely made it back before he heard a crash and Sam crying out in pain.

He and the officer on duty burst into the room to find Sam out of his bed, dangling by his wrist with one of his ankles tangled in the support struts on his gurney. He'd tried to get out of bed to get at the tape recorder, with the intent to destroy it, misjudged his ability to stand straight with a serious head injury, lost his balance and become tangled.

When he ran the tape back Reuben found Sam had also made a phone call. To the home of his ex-wife, threatening to kill her if she testified against him.

Reuben couldn't get back to Holbrook, as much as he'd wanted to give Captain Dobey and his men an in-person rundown of the interview. He was practically dozing at his desk a few days later when Dobey, Starsky and Hutch wandered into the police station.

"They let you loose." He said, loud enough to direct the attention of the men toward his open office door.

Starsky had a crutch under one arm, his other arm in a light sling, but his color was better than Reuben remembered. That might have been because they were no longer under the white-washing fluorescent lights of the hospital. Hutch carried a cane, using the apparatus with the ease of a man who had grown accustomed to its support. Maybe not in recent history, but Reuben could tell Hutch had spent a good deal of time injured in the past.

They were in no particular hurry to get to his office, eyeing the outer office and the secretary and the dispatch cubicle like sight-seers in a museum.

When they finally arrived Reuben shook each of their hands in greeting and sat on the other edge of his desk, gesturing to the chairs.

"We're heading back to Bay City. Thought we'd drop in and exchange phone numbers and friendship bracelets." Starsky said, waggling his wrist to show off the hospital tag. It was the sort they normally only put on dead bodies, but in a fit of frustration Luyu had labeled him as not to be released until four hours ago.

He'd kept it for a souvenir.

"Afraid I'm shy one friendship bracelet. I'll have to mail you something." Reuben said, sending a doubtful glance to the blonde partner. Hutch just shook his head, then reached into his jacket and produced a thick manila envelope.

"Statements from Rick Simon, AJ Simon, Starsky and me, Robby Abrams and Jennifer Simmons. Signed and dated."

"You have your own copies?" Reuben asked, taking the weighty package.

"Triplicate. Captain's never been so proud." Hutch said.

Over their shoulders Dobey smirked and rolled his eyes.

"AJ Simon..I hope he's gonna recover fully."

The men settling into chairs around his office each nodded.

"Been awake the past few days." Dobey said. "He had a lot of words to exchange with his brother, and seemed a little paranoid about their 'agency' getting paid in full. But he'll pull through."

"If he's worried about being reimbursed...our office has a lot to answer for in that regard. If they're still in Holbrook I think I oughta pay them a visit."

"If Doctor Samara has her way, they'll be there another week." Hutch said, his eyebrows going up poinantly, his partner and captain reacting with barely contained laughter. Luyu had been on a rampage that only got more violent as her patients became more mobile.

Reuben was smirking when he leaned across his desk and handed Hutch a similar envelope. "Sam Waggoner's statement, and a confession of sorts. He worked hard at blaming his brother for most of the planning. Halfway through he fell asleep, and when he woke up he seemed to have had a religious experience. He perjured himself on tape and then he came clean."

Starsky and Hutch exchanged a glance, not sure what a religious experience would sound like. Hutch took the envelope, felt the added weight of spools of audio tape and handed the package to his partner, who handed it back to Dobey.

"Among other things, Sam told us that Dan's plan had been to wait after the bus had arrived in Winslow, release Abrams, then hunt him down. Chuck got anxious, Sam got drunk and riled, and went out ahead of schedule, closed down Route 40 eastbound after the bus drove through, then cut across the back-roads to join his son on the overpass.

I don't suppose we'll ever know for sure, but Sam says it was Chuck that shot out the tires. Both of them were good enough shots, if their hunting take every year can be believed.

Sam's plan was that the bus should go off the road, then he and Chuck would douse it with gasoline and...you all would die."

The looks he was getting were probably echoes of the look he'd given Sam while he heard the man talk. Burning potentially live bodies to death. Sam had said it like he was describing cleaning a toilet. A dirty job, but one that he had to do...and had done more than once. It had opened Reuben's eyes to a part of Sam's psyche he'd never seen before.

"They were gonna burn us alive." Starsky said, swallowing.

Hutch didn't say anything, leaned back in his chair with his head supported on the fingers of his right hand, staring into the distance.

"The problem came when Chuck started to get trigger happy. The tires were shredded, so there would have been no evidence of weapons fire, but as soon as Chuck put bullet holes in the bus, Sam knew they had a problem. He was trying to fix the situation when you-" Reuben pointed at Hutch. "Drove the bus off the cliff."

Starsky and Hutch sensed the gap at the same moment and exchanged a glance.

"We were out," Hutch said, "...unconscious for an hour or two. Why didn't they attack then? Wipe us all out?"

"Sam thought he'd killed his boy." Reuben said, cryptically.

"Huh!" Dobey said from behind the group and Reuben scratched at the stubble on his face, thinking back to his interview.

"He'd hit Chuck over the head, clocked him with the butt of his gun to get him to stop shootin'. Chuck went down and he stayed down and Sam realized what he'd done. He cleaned up the shells on the bridge, dumped everything in their 4x4 and went off to find a phone to call in his brother."

"And he just left his son lying on the side of the highway." Starsky asked, astounded.

"Sam never was too bright. He claimed he left Chucky there with a blanket and a gun, just in case the two of you came after him. Then he went to call Dan, tell him what they'd done, and elicit his help with the clean up."

Starsky and Hutch were nodding now.

"That explains why it was suddenly so easy to get somebody on the horn. They were lookin' for us by then." Starsky said.

"You gentlemen know the rest. Chuck woke up, found his way to the bus, tried to clean up the mess himself. Sam tracked him down and tried to help. Dan returned after re-routing the...oh!"

Reuben cut himself off, remembering a detail that might have been at the top of the list if he'd been a lot less tired.

"The nine missing inmates. The rescue crews picked them up and started back for Winslow, but Dan rerouted 'em. Scattered them to three different hospitals outside of Winslow, claiming they couldn't handle the load at Winslow Memorial. He'd sent officers to each hospital telling them to keep the boys there, in cuffs if needs be, until he could come back for them. Then...Dan was gone. The officers just...stayed. Waiting. Only one of them checked in and he ran into the same problem the others would have. Nobody knew what was going on. Patty told him, "If Dan said stay, you stay", and he stayed."

"Where are they now?" Dobey asked.

"Those still serving sentences have been slated to various juvenile centers around the state. A few of them are still recovering."

Hutch's eyes had flickered up to study Reuben for a long moment and he quietly asked, "What about Abrams?"

Reuben sighed. "That's….that's one hell of a mess. At the moment those who knew the Waggoners, and liked them, are chompin' at the bit for justice to be done. I haven't figured out yet how to tell an entire town that their sheriff was a corrupt son-of-a-bitch with a cruel, black-hearted brother. Don't know that I ever will. Seems Miss Simmons and her mother don't mind keeping Abrams with them, and he's agreed to serve out the rest of his sentence under house arrest. Once he's done, he's a free man, and I'll do what I can to expunge his record. Having the conviction removed...that's...that's further down the road."

The three men from Bay City nodded.

"If you need our help for anything," Hutch added, "Just call. Abrams was the only kid I knew I could count on."

"Saved my badge." Starsky said, smirking a little.

Dobey and Reuben both shared confused looks, but Starsky promised to share the story at another time with a simple wave of his hand and they moved on.

"So Sam Waggoner is in custody?" Dobey confirmed, watching Reuben nod. "Where is Chuck?"

"Chuck is dead."

"What?"

"Storm killed him. He was down in that canyon with some flares and gasoline trying to cover up the evidence of what he and his pop had done when the storm hit. So much water fell so fast he...couldn't get out in time and we figure he must've thought the bus was a good place to wait it out. That's...where we found his body."

The room went quiet, each of the men considering the end of the boy responsible, almost entirely, for their being there in the first place.

'After all, if Chuck hadn't rammed Abrams' car…', Starsky thought, then marveled at the chain of events.

"Told you that bus was cursed." Starsky said, his voice soft enough that only Hutch was meant to hear.

The look his partner gave him, a mix between surprise and agreement, said it all.

"When we need your presence in court we'll give you a heads up." Reuben said, his hand resting on the packet of testimonies he'd been given. "But it's very likely we won't need you in the flesh."

"What about...Sheriff Waggoner?" Starsky asked, squirming involuntarily in his seat.

"Sam confessed on tape that his brother had come there to 'clean up'. Dan wasn't going to let any of the rest of you leave that canyon alive. There's no question that your actions were in self-defense."

"We play that tape for the IA we can save a lot of time and tax payer money." Dobey said from behind the group, pushing to his feet. His men followed suit, gathering crutch and cane.

"I uh...wanted to thank you, Captain Dobey. For your advice." Reuben said, getting to his feet as well. "I've got a lot to fix up yet, but goin' back to the past cleaned out a lot of the skeletons in one go. I think I've got fairly solid ground now to build my office on. Got a lot of apologies to make, but...I think Winslow's gonna turn around."

Starsky smirked, holding his hand out and shaking Reuben's. "You had better. After all this town is famous."

Reuben groaned, but he was smiling. "That damn song."

Hutch was struggling to hide his smirk when he stepped in to shake the sheriff's hand and quietly winked, "Promise we won't sing it."

Dobey was the last to get a handshake, then followed his men toward the door, the packet of confessions in his hand.

It'd been a long hard road but a half ton of weight had been lifted from his chest and kept getting lighter every time he saw his men smile, heard them laugh. The sight and sound made him into the jovial man his wife knew him to be, instead of the barking Caesar his men sometimes accused him of.

Before he left Sheriff Reuben's office Dobey smiled and said, "We'll be in touch. Oh and...Sheriff...take it easy."

AUTHORS NOTE:

I swear I have nothing against Winslow, AZ and I mean it no harm.

In 2002 I was part of a performance tour that ended up in Winslow, AZ for a night. I'd never heard the song, "Take It Easy" by the Eagles, but some of my group mates had. We stood on what is rumored to be "the corner" and they sang an a capella version of the song. Since then I've always remembered "...standing on the corner in Winslow, Arizona..." Thus I picked Winslow as the locale for this particular fic.

Thank you for your indulgence!

Gunney


End file.
